Bm 







e o ,. . -i oo- 




Uearfs' *i)asire iP 





GOODNESS, BUT VOU RE SWEET! 

(paSi- 137) 



J 



y<^^\ 










igaA2oiis« 



dllidtratiovs 






'GooDVESs, But Y'or'iE *' 

Swxft! ' " . . {Page 137) Frwm&fiece _ ^. 

Thi5 Is My Age Book. I *^ 

Alwai;-5 Carit It,' Us. Ex- ^ 

PLATS'SD " . . . . FacBOg pagc 18 ^ : 

^ J^ -* - Jaxe. Tell Me. Does ^ 
S-A>.-TA Cr-AL-5 ^L\KZ Lrr~ 

Thixgs?"" .... " - 32- *^ 

A ilEZOXESS SlLEXCE ReCCXED 

V.HiLE He WATTEri • . . - - 78 ♦■ 



Oh-h: Voc'iE ilr— 
Re-axly — iloTHEa. .Axrs-T 
Voc?- .... - - 148- 






/ 



/Vrrd o >»20a r~N<fik,-n -^ 




V\ 



?*f'r*f='!*'=^*==**==*^***=***N 



/i A 



i 






John Belden's heart was heavy. He 
felt as though he had swallowed something 
big and hard and, whatever it might be, it 
was growing bigger and harder every min- 
ute. His legs were tired — his feet dragged 
as he walked. The load was almost more 
than he could carry. 

To the passer-by, the little figure in 
leather leggins, long ulster and close-fitting 
fez cap plodding through the snow ap- 
peared as a sleepy, unwilling pedestrian 
who potentially might, could, would or 
should be in bed. In the prosaic mind of 
Jane Austin, who guided his course not 
only in this particular instance but in most 
of the affairs of life, the weariness and utter 
lack of animal spirits was wholly due to 
the dissipation of the afternoon — his first 
party, of which she highly disapproved; 



/T 



^: 



a 



/ 



i \ 



\ 



•^ --# 



^% 




Their Hearts' Desire 

real animosity being entertained toward the 
chocolate candies and ice cream Santa 
Claus reposing in John's inner parts. Just ^ ll, 
at bed-time, too! 

Now it must not be inferred Jane Austin 
was an ogress, not in the least; but she was 
fifty, and her world was very small, and 
sparsely settled, with few outlooks, from 
which she never looked, and no diversions. 

It had enlarged but little in the past 
twenty years and at no time admitted much 
of even primitive ice cream and stick candy, 
while frivolity in a more definitely alluring 
guise was not presented for consideration. 

Taking John, a motherless babe a month 
old, he had been for seven years the axis 
of her sphere. She circled round him un- 
ceasingly, varying little in her daily course, 
and never raising her eyes to see what other 
people thought, or what the rest of the 
world was doing, and so, completely ab- 
sorbed in her one duty, Jane was prone to 
lose sight of the flight of time and the 

lO 




^i^k>^ 





w^^^vj-m^ -w^Kj^ i^^^^^^iivs^^^ 



% 



w 
W--'" 



w . 






r/jf 



Hearts 



'^ 



Desire 

necessary changes in the regime of a grow- 
ing boy, and mary regulations governing 
John as a toddler might still have been 
in force at the age of seven but for the 
interference of his father or Aunt Sue, who 
came once in a while to visit them. And 
no amendment to the laws of the nursery, 
or single departure therefrom, was ever 
accomplished without a vigorous remon- 
strance from Jane. 

With this glimpse of her character, we 
may readily surmise that John's enjoyment 
of the afternoon was a special dispensation 
of his father's. Jane would never have 
been guilty of such weakness! 

John Belden was seven, and, of course, 
his world was small, too. But, unlike 
Jane's, it was one of boundless possibilities, 
and its horizon widened daily. For with 
an inquiring mind of unusually quick per- 
ception and a loving, responsive nature, he 
saw much and felt keenlv. 

Each newly discovered wonder and mys- 
II 
it 




!f 



•r.v^^/.^ii^^i^iii^^ 



id^m 



f 




A 



Their Hearts' Desire 

tery of the universe appealed to him, from 
the marvel of the moon and stars to the 
coming of four teeny-weeny gray kittens to 
Jane's old cat; kittens that could not see at 
all, and that were quite too weak to walk 
even a part of the way. 

And then John's first year of school was 
opening up such a lot of things to learn and 
do, and things not to do, that this young 
idea began to shoot with vigor; not only 
in prescribed lines, but in spots and direc- 
tions unforeseen, and, for the curriculum of 
the school-room, undesired. And the daily 
companionship of children — that was rap- 
idly developing his talent for the vicissi- 
tudes of life. His vision broadening, the 
whys of the world began to compass him 
about and with increased sensibilities came 
definite desire and vague longings. 






'ii 



Their Hearts' Desire 

pression in established, unvarying lines, de- 
veloped an element of loyalty in him far in 
excess of any other feeling. And so while 
he found the faithful loving hand of a 
mother, he sought in vain for the sympa- 
thetic understanding of the maternal heart. 

He went to her with his bumps and 
bruises; he was sure of succor. He knew 
almost with certainty just what remedy 
would be applied for each particular kind 
of wound. He even knew where they, the 
remedies, were kept. He was conscious, 
too, that Jane was ever ready to give him 
anything he wished for that was right for 
him to have, but his griefs and disappoint- 
ments, and most cherished dreams, often 
the fanciful expression of the real needs of 

child, he confided to Adam, and Adam 
as a dog. 

It was almost six o'clock this December 





'-^r,v^ ^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

earlier in the day, but now emerging from 
the light and warmth of Jo's home into the 
darkness and cold, somehow everything 
seemed behind him but bed — and that 
doesn't count with a boy. Consequently, 
his mind reverted to the events of the after- 
noon for comfort, but with poor success, 
for the very things he recalled with greatest 
pleasure only served to increase his present 
gloom. 

Three hours before, he and Jane had 
passed over the same ground on the way to 
the party. Then the sun was shining in 
the world, and in John's heart, and before 
him lay the object of many days' joyful 
anticipation. Even Jane's worst forebod- 
ings had paled a little under his enthusiasm. 

Arriving at the Strongs' house, she had 
taken him up to remove his wraps and then 
down-stairs, where she left him scoured 
within an inch of his life; his hair brushed 
to stringent smoothness, every line of his 
attire and character properly adjusted. 
14 



^1 



y 



ii- 



\ 






\\ 



%i 



Their Hearts' Desire 

He found everything quite equal to his 
expectations, in some regards quite exceed- 
ing them, since the beautiful and artistic 
had not figured in his speculations. And 
there were many of the boys and girls he 
knew at school and while they, like himself, 
were at first in the semi-hypnotic state in- 
duced by parting injunctions and the fear 
of wrecking the family honor should any 
one of these by chance be forgotten, 
a rollicking game of " Blind Man's 
Buff " had awakened all dormant sensi- 
bilities and put to rout abnormal moral 
conditions. 

It was as Blind Man that he first saw 
Her, and that was really the beginning of 
things. 

Now John loved the beautiful in every- 
thing, and She was beautiful — beautiful as 
the Princess in a fairy tale, in her white 
gown; and her soft brown hair, radiant 
smile and the dimple in her chin fascinated 
him; while the scarlet bandage covering her 



D 1 ; 



h^ 



# /^ 



/ 



•A1- 



% 



M 



r\ ']• 



'14^ 




^l 




Their Hearts' Desire 

eyes supplied just the little mystic air that 
makes a fairy Princess irresistible. 

Hence John's capitulation was complete. 
He stood transfixed, forgetting the children 
and what the scarlet bandage really meant. 
The idea of avoiding the outstretched 
searching hands of the " Blind Man " did 
not occur to him. So he was caught, of 
course, and stood a happy captive, little 
quivers running up and down his spine and 
the back of his legs, as soft hands glided 
over face and head on down to his shoulders, 
farther, even to his hands, in search of some 
identifying point. 

Game followed game, and She was the 
life of them all, only pausing to tie hair 
ribbons, shoe strings and sashes, some of 
which he had untied; put safety pins in 
place of missing buttons, and administer 
comfort to the bumped and bruised, and 
loving justice to the quarrelsome; and 
finally, at table adjusting napkins comforta- 
bly and filling plates with a fine regard for 




h 



U(£;:\ 



#H 



i^yv\j^ 






^^njm 



b l: 



// 



Their Hearts' Desire 

correct proportions and a glorious disre- 
gard for consequences. And John, in an 
exposed position, midway the festive board, 
with an expanse of temptation on either 
side, gave Jane one fleeting thought and 
abandoned himself to the delights of for- 
bidden things and a chivalrous effort to 
verify Her generous judgment of his accom- 
plishments. 

He tried to be near Her in the games, 
but she was ever flitting from place to place, 
and there were other admirers, perhaps a 
trifle less ardent, but often in the way. And 
so, despite persistent effort and some subter- 
fuge, John had not been wholly satisfied 
uith his lot. 

Once, near the close of the afternoon, he 
spied her sitting alone in a corner and 
promptly sidled over and took a stand by 
her chair. She turned and smiled at him, 
and he smiled back, waiting for further 
developments. 

She asked his name, and he told her, and 



■\/f 



^h 



>«r oV ^ a »]iA 



« o ^ v*-' 



'» 




w, 



■4^^^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

then her hand closed upon one of his rest- 
ing on the arm of the chair. 

"How old are you, John?" she ques- 
tioned. 

" Seven. The boys say I am little, but," 
with rising spirit, " I'll bet I'll grow to be 
a big man like my father — 'cause he was 
little, too, until he got on trousers — and 
then he grew a lot! Aunt Sue says all our 
* f ambly ' grow a lot when they get on 
trousers." 

"Oh! I am sure you will, too," giving 
his hand a squeeze. 

There was a lull — the subject seemed ex- 
hausted, and she absorbed in other things — 
John felt the necessity of providing some- 
thing new for consideration. With sudden 
impulse, he drew a small memorandum 
book from his pocket and opened it. 

" This is my age book. I always carry 
it," he explained. " I'll put you down, if 
you want me to. See," leaning confidingly 
against her, and turning the leaves slowly. 
18 



rl: 



■\,«' 



\ 



xt^^j^^^^^y-^v^^^^^ 




THIS IS MY AGE BOOK. I ALWAYS CARRY IT, HE 
EXPLAINED " 



iil^ 






r^v^E:— 



^^-"^^- 



Their Hearts' Desire 

" There's Jane's — fifty, — fifty-two, that's for 
Cook; Daddy's — thirty-eight; and seven, 
that's for me." At the next page he hesi- 
tated. On it, in irregular but unmistakable 
figures was one hundred. " Jesus is a hun- 
dred," he finally announced, " and a thou- 
sand," turning another leaf, " that's for 
God. He's the oldest person I know. I 
haven't got Aunt Sue," he added regret- 
fully, as he closed the book and stood 
thoughtfully tracing with his fore-finger the 
gold lettering of the advertising Insurance 
Company on the cover. 

A silence John did not understand but 
which he felt to be most comfortable en- 
sued, and then "Who is Aunt Sue?" she 
asked gently. 

He slipped the book into his pocket and 
faced her, his face glowing with enthusi- 
asm. 

" Oh, she's my aunt She lives in 

the country in an awful nice place — a big 
yard — with trees in it 'at you can climb if 
J9 



/ 




Their Hearts' Desire 

Nurse is busy — and beautifullest roses — 
and a barn — and a plain hired man. Gee! " 
with an emphasizing shake of his head, " I 
like him, — and snakes, just little ones," re- 
assuringly, seeing that she did not enthuse. 
" I wouldn't let them bite you — and great 
big ' high-ball ' bushes. I mean," with 
an emphasizing nod, " I mean snow-ball 
bushes. My daddy planted them when he 
lived there a long time ago." This with 
much pride. 

She regarded him with suppressed amuse- 
ment for a moment, then laughed softly 
to herself and John laughed too, without 
in the least knowing why. 

" I love the country, too," she told him 
presently, " the flowers and grass, and I 
like to climb " — but here an array of hair 
ribbons were presented for attention, and 
John was unceremoniously pushed aside. 

He stood apart marvelling. To think of 
it! She could climb. She wasn't afraid, 
and liked it, too. That was the finishing 



,f^\^—^J\/\'<U^^ 



',WiJ^ 



.m^-Mi 




estre 

touch, only, he did wish he knew what it 
was she liked to climb. He feared it was 
A (T^ a common cross-barred fence but he hoped. 
, ff: oh, how he hoped it was a tree! 
/ |;[ ^ Longing for a chance to continue the con- 
versation, he waited near, but as soon as 
the ribbons were tied, William Gordon's 
mother came in, followed very shortly by 
other mothers, so her attention was quite 
taken up with grown folks, while the grown 
folks' respective offspring went up-stairs to 
don hats and coats. 

John wished there was some one to come 
and claim him right before them all — of 
course he knew Jane would be waiting up- 
stairs — but some one in soft furs and a 
feathery hat. Jane never wore furs, and 
her hats were always stiff and depressingly 
even all round. No one else would come 
for him, of course, and there was no use 
waiting about, so he went with his host 
to make a final raid on the dining table for 



i ^ -U' 






/I:i 



H 



U 



\ 



%. 



Their Hearts' Desire 
On his return he found that almost every- 
body had gone. He looked around for 
Mrs. Strong. He had not thought of her 
before, but now wondered where she had 
been all afternoon. He wished to bid her 
good-night, as instructed by Jane; a vague 
idea of having strayed from the straight and 
narrow path on divers occasions, firing 
his passion for implicit obedience as a 
finish. 

Learning from Jo that his mother was 
upstairs, he followed the example of the 
other guests and advanced to pay his re- 
spects to Her, offering a limp, perfunctory 

1 hand. 

f|^: She took it and smiled down upon him. 

^ " Good-night," she said. 

-^ John said nothing. It all seemed so 

< meaningless, so inadequate. It was not at 

1^ all the way he wished to say good-night. 

iy He raised hungry expectant eyes to her 

% face. 

i^ "I hope you have had a happy time," she 







"4i 



:s^' 



Their Hearts' Desire .J' !' \s 



added in response, laying her arm about 
his shoulders. 

" Oh, a dandy time! " encouraged by her 
tone, and he would have asked her moic 
about the climbing, but again some one in- 
terposed, and he disconsolately withdrew. 

In the hall he met a little girl in white 



]) i 



with accompaniments of blue, whose sash ^' ij/f/ 
he had surreptitiously untied during the «^ J^m'/ 



afternoon's frolic, and whose indignant 
glance had rested upon him more than once, 
but now, with the delicious inconsistency 
of her sex, she smiled and slipped her hand 
in his. 

" I don't want to go home, do you? " she 
said, as they reached the foot of the stairs 

" No, I don't," said John. 

They went up several steps in silence and 
mutual discontent. Then she stopped and 
turned to share with him her crumb of 
comfort. " Do you want to come to my 
party?" 

John balanced himself on one foot, and 
23 



\y. 



^1 



i 



\^y/ 



/ 



^ 



^roV-^^y.iiv 



vS^. 



.^=^- ^- 



\\ 



w 



Their Hearts' Desire 

looked at her in pleased surprise. Her 
name was Emily. Emily — what, he did 
not know, or where she lived. 

" Yes, I'll come," he answered, advanc- 
ing to the step above. " When is it going 
to be? " 

She grasped his hand with both of hers 
and hopped up beside him. " I'll ask my 
mother if I can have you," she announced 
cordially as she landed. 

" Oh! " said John. 

They had reached the first landing. 

" Can't you come a wee bit faster? " un- 
expectedly a voice urged from above. 
Looking up, John saw Jane, and the little 
girl saw her, too, and after an instant's 
curious regard leaned toward him, covering 
her mouth with one small hand. " Is that 
your mother? " she whispered. 

John looked again at the waiting figure 
above and then at his companion. Instinc- 
tively he dropped her hand and backed 
away against the balustrade while he hesi- 






\ 



'-^%^' 



^tf^ 



v\ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

tated. Somehow the question disturbed him. 
He shrank from it and her, for the note 
of surprise and curiosity in the accented 
word had not escaped him; he felt it differ- 
entiated himself as well as Jane in some 
indefinable way. 

" No, she's just — a good friend of mine," 
he faltered and hurrying on ahead fol- 
lowed Jane into the bedroom for his 
wraps. 

" Why, you're the very last to come up, 
John," she commented, stooping to adjust 
his leggings. " Have you had a good 
time?" 

" Awful good." The answer carried con- 
viction without enthusiasm. Jane thought 
it quite too brief to be natural, considering 
the subject. On the look-out for symptoms, 
she instantly attributed it to satiety in a 
malignant form. 

" What did you have for supper? " in a 
despondent voice. 

John told her in detail, omitting nothing. 
25 



n'f^1^ 



#-" 



m 



^A^^tM^^ 



//x 



v^ 



\: 



Their Hearts' 

anxiously, 



Desire 

" what did 



" But you, " anxiously, " wnat did you 
eat, John? " 

" Everything." 

Jane uttered not a syllable, but got her 
charge into his wraps as quickly as possible, 
which was not very quick, since he seemed 
disinclined to help himself. 

But at last, the task accomplished, he 
followed her through the upper hall and 
down the stairs. The house appeared quite 
deserted. They saw no one, and perfect 
silence reigned, except for the faint sound 
of retreating voices and low laughter; and 
then somewhere a door closed — closed 
softly, gently, but still, it closed, increasing 
the air of finality that oppressed him. 

At the foot of the stairs, he lingered an 
instant; his eyes bent dreamily upon the 
floor strewn with bright bits of paper, holly 
berries and forgotten or discarded favors. 
Close to his feet lay a bow of pale blue 
ribbon. It recalled Emily — and other 
things. Picking it up, he reached to lay 



// 



-^ ft- 



~4\ 



\\ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

it on the newel-post, shattering, as he did 
so, a full blown American Beauty rose from 
the vase above. 

Just then the center lights went out. Im- 
pulsively he turned and hastened after Jane, 
but before the library door again he paused, 
for She sat within, leaning wearily back in 
a big cushioned chair, one hand falling list- 
lessly over the arm, while the other, holding 
a bunch of little purple flowers, lay in her 
lap. Though she smiled, her eyes were 
closed — perhaps she was a sleeping Prin- 
cess, and this a forsaken palace. 

Away ofif, as far as he could think, John 
heard the closing of another door. He held 
his breath. Now she was quite alone. If 
only he might stay! 

His pulses quickened, he drew a step 
nearer, and then — Jane took him gently but 
firmly by the hand and led him out into the 
night. 

For months John Belden had been 
haunted by a vague longing which had 



>k^( 




h 



// 



/ 



™ /•/ \ 



^ 



• I 



//' 



Their Hearts' Desire 

never taken more distinct form than a re- 
current wish that Jane was different. He 
did not know why, for Jane he knew was 
good. He felt almost sure she had never 
done anything wrong in her life. He al- 
most wished she had. But this longing, the 
companionship and experience of the after- 
noon had developed, and the satisfying per- 
sonality of his new friend, the presence 
of so many beautiful mothers, and the little 
girl's questions on the stairs, had all tended 
to clear his mental atmosphere of doubts 
and perplexity, so that by the time he 
reached the street, a perfect realization of 
what he most wanted in the whole world 
absorbed him, and he felt dreadfully alone. 
He could not think of another boy or 
girl, not one, who did not have a real live 
mother. 

There was a beautiful picture of some one 
^4 on the library wall at home — a mother that 
% they said was his, only — well, once or twice 
1 alone with Adam, he had called 



/■ 






■m^vmj^^L^^'^^. 



/•/ \s 




Their Hearts' Desire 

softly to see if anything would happen, and 
she had not even answered. Perhaps she 
did not know him, she went away so long 
ago, and was never coming back, why, no 
one seemed to know, not even Daddy, and 
Daddy had told him a lot about her too, how 
sweet and good she was, about her eyes and 
mouth and hair, even about her hands " so 
beautiful and tender." John always re- 
membered those words, " beautiful and 
tender " — her hands, and he wished that he 
could see them in the picture. 

But to-night a wild desire consumed all 
other thought, leaving a single avenue his 
mind could take, and his whole body ached 
in contemplation, for it seemed to reach so 
many, many miles ahead and had no turning 
point or end. 



Suddenly the chimes of a neighboring 
church burst forth clear and vibrating on 
the winter air — "Joy to the World" they 





\V/' W \£ \^ 



,^^ .^vm-- 



\\ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

John took a long, deep breath. Some- 
thing gave way and made it possible. He 
looked up, his heart responding instantly to 
the song of cheer. To the belfry from 
which the song of glory came, on up to 
the stars above, he raised his eyes, and he 
saw things that grown folks do not see, and 
heard melodies too remote for them to hear, 
because of the manifold things of earth that 
lie between. 

An interval of silence while a closing note 
diffused itself. 

Again " Joy to the World " the chimes 
began, and then, across the soft white still- 
ness of the night, nearer and nearer, came 
the sound of other bells. They, too, sang of 
joy, but in gayer, faster measure, a riotous 
song, that finding echo in his childish heart, 
warmed and thrilled him. 

He had forgotten, but now — through the 
darkness of night and the gloom of his own 
forebodings he looked straight into the 
merry, reassuring face of Santa Claus. 
30 



i">vA„(Cv"\-^^r_V-,1. 






\ 



U'^m 




w 



\. 



Their Hearts' Desire 

A little excited laugh escaped his parted 
lips. His mind fairly galloped to happy 
conclusions without reason or guidance, 
only — since he could remember, Santa Claus 
had never failed him or any other boy he 
knew. 

He broke from Jane's restraining hand. 
Hopping, skipping, jumping, he circled 
around her; till finally, running on ahead, 
he waited under the flickering light of a 
street lamp, exclaiming with enthusiasm as 
she joined him: " Jane, tell me, does Santa 
Claus make live things? I mean ponies, 
and dogs and — things that walk and talk, 
like he brings boys sometimes?" 

" No, John, only God can do that," Jane 
answered in a mildly reproachful tone, 
(She must review his catechism on Sun- 
day!) 

" Well, where does he get them, then? " 
John urged, unconscious of his fall from 
grace. " He brought Cousin Dick a dandy 
goat last year, and Aunt Sue a baby! " 



:f 



i?-- 



/ 



pi 



V 





Their Hearts' Desire 

" Perhaps he bought the goat." 

" Perhaps," dubiously, " but the baby — 
where did he get the baby? " 

" I can't say — exactly. I don't know 
much about Santa Claus, John." Truthful 
Jane! She never cultivated, never ap- 
proved of fictitious characters. 

They walked in silence a little way, and 
then John announced with conviction, " I 
bet God helps him. He's a regular ' corker,' 
God is." 

"John Belden!" Jane gasped in horror, 
for she did not catch the note of praise in 
the boyish vernacular. 

" Well, He t5, Jane. He can just do any- 
thing He wants. S'pose you think babies 
is all He can make. Humph! " in a scorn- 
ful voice. " He makes men and — ladies 
and — and giants, too, sometimes." The last 
triumphantly. 

Jane said nothing. She was occupied 
trying to account for the remarkable change 
in the deportment of her small charge 
32 
•^ v -v A^ -v -^^ a;- .iV <^ 



kn/^Ar^r^'" 






JANE, TELL ME, DOES SANTA CLAUS MAKE LIVE 
THINGS? ' " 



y 






Their Hearts' Desire 

Could this sudden animation betoicen deli- ^ t-i 
rium? M, .. 

She looked at him solicitously. He was W ^p 
gazing meditatively up at the sky. 

" I know now, Jane. Santa Claus gets 
them in another world," he said at length, 
with a shade of awe and wonder in his voice. 

" Where did you learn that nonsense? " 

" Daddy said so, he told me. It's Mars — 
one star. It's a world — away off, a hundred 
and a thousand miles — farther than from ^ 
here to Aunt Sue's. Anyway, they think 
it's a world, Jane," reluctantly admitting 
the possibility of a doubt, " and I just know 
that's where he gets things. I'll bet you 
anything," kicking viciously at a pile of 
snow. "Gee! I wonder how he gets 
there! " he added, again thoughtful. 

" I'm sure I don't know," she answered 
abstractedly, while she studied him. 

Jane did not easily give up her opinions, ^; 
but John's step once more buoyant, his voice % 
animated, normal conditions existing, it cer- 
_ 33 , 



¥ 



if 






9 o o 



^■"?f 



:mi^.-. 



C(^apter 
Two 



M 



Entering the house, they had hardly 
closed the door till Adam was in the hall, 
careering around with the grace of a small 
elephant, his antics seriously interfering 
with John's efforts to remove his wraps. 
But this accomplished, the boy ran down 
the hall, closely pursued by the Great Dane 
into the library, where they settled them- 
selves on the rug in front of the fire, and 
Adam ate the chocolates concealed for him 
in the fullness of his young master's blouse. 
The fact that candy was not considered good 
for Adam either, had always been a close 
tie between them! 

The chocolates disposed of, Adam opened 
the conversation, pounding his tail vigor- 
ously upon the floor, but John did not re- 
spond. He lay with his head propped on 
his hands, looking dreamily at the blazing 



% 



W\ 



/ 



^^^^^iU^^4llA^^^ 



\. 



\ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

X logs. Once more Adam expressed himself 
" with added vehemence, but still his presence 
was ignored. 

This was too much — something must be 
wrong. 

Adam blinked thoughtfully, then slowly 
rising to his feet, walked around between 
John and the fire, and poked his cold, wet 
nose into John's warm neck. That was 
Adam's favorite spot! 

John squirmed and giggled as he pulled 
the big dog down close beside him, and 
whispering, told him all about it. And 
that was what Adam wanted. He was a 
fine listener, offering not a single suggestion, 
only expressing his interest and appreciation 
by a hearty dab of his large red tongue on 
John's small nose. 

Then they both lay in silence gazing at 
the fire. The boy, with wide-open, soulful 
eyes, transported by his fancies to a state of 
perfect bliss, while the dog, soon dozing 
ofif, found himself confronted by a host of 
38 



,:j o 



%f 



/ 



CO 00 





'~^:- 



-^•-'#--f^ f -% 



Their Hearts' Desire 

cats — awful, diabolical looking cats, with 
shiny, smooth chocolate bodies and extrava- 
gantly large and bristling white tails held 
uniformly aloft, each separate hair mani- 
•/ 111 ((■ festing individual hostility. The hair on 
the scruff of Adam's neck rose bravely. He 
uttered a sharp bark of warning, but it 
ended in a tremulous whine of despair, as 
he observed the rapid advance of the un- 
daunted foe. On the eve of ignominious 
flight, he heaved a prodigious sigh of relief 
and satisfaction when suddenly aroused to 
a consciousness of peace and safety. To 
think he had escaped, and with his honor 
unimpaired! 

He raised himself to his haunches, med- 
itating. He wondered where that particu- 
lar breed of felines came from and what his 
chances were for meeting them again, when 
in the midst of his speculations, some one 
suddenly grabbed John by the feet, exclaim- 
ing in a big voice: " Well, Buster, what are 
you doing here at this hour? Is Nurse sick 
39 



t^\ 



i i|'. 



# 



■^ 



3^ 

'^1 # 



f* 



Their Hearts* Desire 

that you are allowed to sit up? " And then 
began the romp that usually followed a 
meeting of father and son. 

But to-night, no romping for John. He 
wriggled and writhed, calling out, " Wait, 
Daddy — don't. I want to tell you — please," 
as he made repeated efforts to get upon his 
feet. 

At last the timely entrance of Adam into 
the fray diverted his tormentor's attention 
long enough for John to announce with en- 
thusiasm, " Daddy, — please, I want to write 
a letter now, so it will be in time — to Santa 
Claus — that's why I stayed up — and I want 
you to help me to spell it quick — for I'll 
have to go to bed in just a minute." 

The tone of anxiety and excitement 
plainly showed that the business was im- 
portant, so pencil and paper were promptly 
supplied, and John went to work. 

His father stood by, watching with in- 
terest the flushed face and rigid little fist 
wielding the pencil. He was curious, too, 
40 




ff^ 



^1 



/ 



Ft^^V' 




Their Hearts' Desire 

but he did not question — did not even speak, 
except in response to a plea for help, though 
the words he was asked to spell were of so 
varied a nature as to give no clue to the 
particular contents of the letter. 

Not until it was sealed, addressed, and 
stamped did John relax his efforts, for he 
'': was momentarily expecting Jane's call to 
^ bed, and had only just put the letter in his 
^. father's hand, when she summoned him. 
" Don't forget to send it to-night, will 
you, Daddy? " he cautioned brightly, rais- 
ing his face to be kissed, and then he scamp- 
ered off, Adam following him to the door. 
Robert Belden sat down and stretched 
his limbs to the warmth of the crackling fire. 
It felt good. The night was cold and he 
had had a long drive. The fire was a real 
comfort. He leaned his head against the 
back of his easy chair, and smilingly con- 
templated the envelope in his hand. Adam 
• came and stood sedately beside him. 

" Adam," in a puzzled tone, " what do 







V^Uli/ 




// 



^/^ 



Their Hearts* Desire 

you suppose is in this epistle, anyway? " 
Adam did not commit himself, but to show 
his interest laid one paw upon his master'; 
knee. " Let me see," Dr. Belden continued, 
" I spelled things — live — lady — climb — 
chin and Mars. Well, if that isn't a mix- 
up," with an amused chuckle. " Sort of 
a Chinese puzzle, and I hate to give up 
and look at the answer." 

He delayed a moment longer, and then 
raising himself to a more erect position, 
took a paper knife from the table close at 
hand and cut the envelope open. " It is 
very mysterious, and very important," he 
said, with playful solemnity, opening out 
the sheet. 

" Dear Santa," it began— 

" I do not want the things I said. I only 
want a mother — a live one that can do 
thmgs, like the lady at Jo's that can climb 
with a hole in her chin. Maybe you can 
get one in Mars. 

" John Belden." 









■^6^ 



'"i^'^S^' 




^ 



T'Ae/r Hearts' Desire 

The father sank slowly back in his chair. 
The hand holding the letter dropped to his 
knee. He was dazed, stupefied by this un- 
heard of request; what he felt to be a crying 
need in the life of his boy. 

He had expected the natural demands of 
childhood; extravagant, perhaps, but de- 
mands that with money he could meet, or 
with tact modify, but what in all the world 
could satisfy this heart hunger— the God- 
given instinct of a child for mother-love I 

An awful sense of futility and incompe- 
tency to comprehend the situation oppressed 
him, since he had failed all these years in 
the very thing he cared most about— John's 
happiness and welfare. And Jane Austin, 
the Infallible, with all her years of experi- 
ence and singleness of purpose and love for 
John, she must have failed too. 

This added to his distress, for from the 
first, recognizing a man's limitations, he had 
relied on her care and companionship to 
supplement his own. 




/f'<:. 



/ 



\\ 



/f 



Si=^ 



\ 



Their Hearts* Desire 




And now the letter was all he had to 
enlighten him. Recalling but vaguely its 
contents, except the one paramount fact, he 
turned to it again. 

" I do not want the things I said,'' he read, 
and stopped. This complete giving up of 
all coveted treasures showed how much in 
earnest the boy was. " I only want a 
mother," he continued, " a live one — like 
the lady at Jo's — that can climb — with a 
hole in her chin." He paused, smiling ten- 
derly at the ambiguity. And then Robert 
Belden caught his breath. Suddenly some- 
thing dawned upon him that almost stopped 
the beating of his heart, and enveloped his 
mental faculties in a sort of haze. 

" The lady at Jo's," he remarked slowlj^ 
shifting his position. Was he dreaming, or 
deluded? He must think — but his whole 
consciousness became suddenly dominated 
by an inspired conviction not to be reasoned 
with or questioned. It seemed the very im- 
pulse of his being. 



iv 



./> 



/ 



\ 



it 



v\ 



%l 



Their Hearts' Desire 

He sprang from his chair, and began pac- 
ing the floor, head up, eyes glowing with 
exaltation. Dreaming, or deluded? No — 
no — it was Fate and Barbara. A half hys- 
terical laugh escaped him. It was meant to 
be, he knew it! John wanted her, or one 
like her, and there was only one Barbara 
McClellan in all the world. And he? O 
God! how he wanted her! A thousand 
times more beautiful she seemed, and holy, 
a blessing set apart for him and John. 

He had thought to make her love him, 
but somehow now he knew the miracle was 
wrought, for his spirit drew hers gently to 
him, not a shadow intervened, and he softly 
folded his love about her, while she smiled 
a beautiful radiance into the room. He 
heard the echo of his love within her heart, 
and felt the beauty of her soul within his 
own. 

Softly the voice of his dear old mother 
came to him, singing in quavering tones as 
she used to sing so long ago, " God moves 
J.5.. 



/ 



/ 



\ 



-# 



H 



V\ 



// 



\ Their Hearts' Desire 

i in a mysterious way, His wonders to per- 
form." She had believed it — bless her, 
through joy and pain — to the very end. 
And he believed it now — and Barbara? 
Yes, Barbara, too. He smiled in happy 
confidence. He did not really need to ask 
her, for he knew. 

Resuming his chair before the fire, he 
gave himself up to the joys of retrospection. 

The revelation seemed complete, and in 
its light all his relations with her assumed 
a new significance, beginning with the day 
six months before when she came to the 
home of his friend, Henry Strong. 

Calling professionally a few hours after 
her arrival, he had surprised her sitting on 
the nursery floor, absorbed in the building 
of a stately castle for his convalescing pa- 
tient. 

There had been no one to introduce them, 
but he quickly identified her in his mind 
with the expected guest, and young Eliza- 
beth Strong, radiant with the after-glow of 
46 




^. 




^Ac^ 



Their Hearts* Desire 

chicken pox and the assurance of a four 
year old, recommended them to each other 
without reserve. And the acquaintance, so 
((] auspiciously begun, flourished like a green 
•/ 1:1 (T bay tree, its spicy fruit a source of joy to 
him at least, while subtly nourishing a senti- 
ment of which he did not know himself 
possessed. 

Barbara McClellan had come to his 
friend's immediately after the death of her 
father, sad and desperately lonely, for she 
was an only child and had lost her mother 
years before. 

Naturally, in the newness of her grief, 
she shrank from contact with the world in 
general, going out little, except for walks 
and drives, and meeting few people, find- 
ing comfort and happiness in the immediate 
interests of her friends and their children, 
in whose life she unreservedly merged her 
own. 

And he, exceptionally privileged, as an 
old friend and family physician, to come 









S^^^^lv 



■'> m/^'^^^z^^^m^ 




% 




Their Hearts' Desire 

and go at will, morning, noon or night, had 
participated, long before she came, in the 
intimate life of the household; a circum- 
stance affording him from the first her 
almost daily consideration, and occasioning 
attentions on his part sincere but not in the 
least considered. Even the habit of sending 
her violets, inaugurated by the observance 
of her birthday in the early fall, had seemed 
only a concurrence in the increased require- 
ments of an enlarged family. 

He smiled blandly at the thought, but 
he knew that had he been questioned, even 
a month ago, as to the frequency of his visits 
he would have answered in all honesty that 
the Strongs were his dearest friends, that 
he had always gone there informally and 
often, and that there was nothing he enjoyed 
more than an evening in the rectory. She 
would have been included in the evening, 
of course, but not as a distinct factor. And 
how confounded he had been to discover 
the real state of affairs! 




,^-^ 



w 



a 



I., i 



Their Hearts' Desire 

Then he recalled the evening of his first 
enlightenment. 

He had dropped in on his way home from 
the hospital and found her alone, engaged 
in the dressing of a large, blond doll. Un- 
announced, as usual, he enjoyed a moment's 
contemplation of her from the sitting-room 
door before she knew that he was there. 

He could close his eyes and see her now 
as she sat in the warm glow of the lamp, her 
black gown relieved by a tiny line of white 
about the throat and wrists, her lap strewn 
with bright-colored pieces; a sewing-basket 
was on the table close at hand, but closer 
still, he remembered with a thrill of satis- 
faction, the violets he had sent that day. 
The doll she held aloft before her, bending 
its extremities into conventional lines of ease 
and grace, while she viewed its embryo mag- 
nificence with a satisfied smile. 

The sound of his voice had startled her. 
He recalled with some contrition the little 
gasping cry she gave, and the look of alarm 
49 



h 



\ 





7iX \ 



Their Hearts' Desire 
in the eyes that questioningly sought the 
door — a look which speedily gave place to 
one of relief and evident pleasure. 

But she was very sorry to tell him — which 
she did immediately — that both Mr. and 
Mrs. Strong were out, seeming to feel he 
might not care to stay. 

He had been quick to reassure her; he 
remembered exactly the very words he used : 
" I am glad. I would rather have you all 
to myself for a whole evening than anything 
I know." 

He laughed now at the frank committal. 
It was true! He made the statement nat- 
urally, without a thought beyond, and 
but for her momentary self-consciousness, 
evinced by the delicate pink that stole into 
her cheeks and the sudden half veiling of 
her eyes, he might not have realized the 
significance of his own words. 

As it was, the knowledge surprised and 
disconcerted him, a circumstance that now 
aflforded him intense amusement. He felt 
so 





■^ i'=^ 



'ft 


f. ^ 


'■ J^^ 


^: AK 1' ^ 




y ',"*'■# 


V^'? 




A^ '• 


t 








^ "I 



.iff- --^"^-^■■= 

Their Hearts' Desire 
as though he had played a joke upon another 
man, a poor, unsophisticated country bump- 
kin I 

How admirably she had regained her 
self-possession, he reflected, and assisted him 
to his, and her blush — he recalled it now 
with a delicious sense of possible power, 
while he wondered just how much it meant 
and what the drooping eyelids hid. 

Most of the evening she sewed diligently, 
while they talked and he smoked, with her 
kind permission, and played his very lim- 
ited repertoire on the piano. Then she 
suggested a short story in a magazine, which 
he read aloud. Afterwards, while he en- 
joyed his pipe once more, they talked of 
many things, frequently lapsing, however, 
into long silences, during which he envel- 
oped himself in a cloud of smoke and an 
air of preoccupation, while covertly watch- 
ing her from the corner of his eye and 
striving to diagnose his case. 

She had seemed doubly industrious 





Their Hearts' Desire 

these times, he remembered. He also re- 
membered, with an indulgent smile, that he 
was invariably requested to find her mis- 
laid scissors, or to pursue an errant spool 
which persisted in dropping from her lap 
and rolling away to some remote corner of 
the room. 

This had finally ended in his offering 
to hold in his own hand both scissors and 
spool when not in use. She demurred a 
little, it was " such a foolish occupation for 
a man," but his argument that it was an 
improvement on scrambling around on all 
fours over-ruled. 

Once, near the close of the evening, she 
had come to momentary grief, and he val- 
iantly to the rescue. Her needle slipped 
down deep beneath the nail of one deft 
finger. She exclaimed a little, and so, with- 
out being formally called, he took the case, 
and the injured hand, in his. 

The needle intact had been readily re- 
moved, but to thoroughly satisfy himself — 
52 



\' 



/ 




Their Hearts' Desire 

he failed to state in what way — it had been 
necessary to make a prolonged and exhaus- 
tive search for the point. 

During the examination of the finger, 
and — himself, she had watched him with a 
serious, trustful look that aggravated to an 
alarming degree all his symptoms and con- 
vinced him that his case was hopeless. 

During the fortnight since that memor- 
able evening they had been often together, 
each time serving to strengthen his resolve 
to win her, and his uncertainty as to whether 
it were possible, and if so, how and when. 

There being no question as to his own 
state of mind and heart, he spent his time 
speculating as to hers and debating the wis- 
dom of a final move. 

But he did not find it easy to get his bear- 
ings with Barbara McClellan. Her nature 
was a rare combination of reserve and amaz- 
ing simplicity. And while oftentimes in- 
genuousness opened up entrancing vistas 
that transported him to the very seventh 
53 




\ 



Kv::-{. 









r% 



^j] 



Their Hearts* Desire 

heaven of bliss, they were quickly and quite 
breathlessly obscured by an instant reserve, 
much as a mother hastens to cover the rev- 
elations of a too precocious child. So these 
charming glimpses only served to keep him 
ever traversing the hillsides of doubt. 

Now from his newly established emi- 
nence, he viewed as of another being the 
footsteps of his vacillating feet; steps that 
crossed and re-crossed, discerning where he 
might have advanced with safety many 
times. But, strange to say, the path by 
which he attained his present dizzy height 
he could not see. 

He was there, that was enough, and be- 
fore him lay the country of his heart's de- 
sire, waiting, ready for immediate posses- 
sion, if only Barbara were ready too. 

He must know. He would go to her at 
once — and he started toward the door, paus- 
ing midway to consult his watch when Jane 
entered ^^^th a cup of tea. 

" I thought perhaps you would like some- 





M' V MH 








^ 'f. 



Their Hearts* Desire 

thing hot before you go out again, sir," she 
said. " It will be so late before you have 
dinner, and it's cold." 

" Thank you, Jane, you are ver^' thought- 
ful," he said perfunctorily. 

She put the tray on the table and left the 
room; whereupon Dr. Belden eyed it with 
antagonism, while his spirits sank. For 
Jane's words brought to mind an engage- 
ment to dine at the Club with sundry others 
of the local profession, entertaining an emi- 
nent surgeon from abroad, and he had been 
delegated to make the address of welcome. 

" Heavens! A fine one it would be," he 
reflected sardonically. He hadn't an idea 
in his head, but Barbara, and " God moves 
in a mysterious way." 

He leaned against the edge of the table, 
his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and 
scowled as he faced the situation. One 
thing was sure, he was not to be depended 
upon. What man would be! And looking 
down at the hundred and eighty pounds of 



.;fe ^- - 




h 




Their Hearts' Desire 

deferred hope in English tweeds, of which 
he was miserably conscious, he indulged in 
one large, audible " Damn! " and inaudibly 
consigned the eminent surgeon to the bottom 
of the sea, with all the isolated corporeal 
members which had engaged his attention, 
and of which, incidentally, this dinner was 
a consequence. 

Then once more Robert Belden looked at 
his watch and debated. He must do some- 
thing. The pressure was too great. It 
could not all be put ofif. He closed his 
watch with a decisive snap and went to the 
'phone. 

" Seven hundred, please," he requested, 
followed by the customary wait. " Hello, 
that you, Henry? This is Belden talking 
. . . Yes . . . No, not to-night, thanks. 
Am due at the Club at eight, and I haven't 
any time to waste on you, old man. I want 
to talk to Miss McClellan, if I may. . . . 
All right, I'll wait." Silence for a time, 
and then, " Good-evening," and a beaming 




^ 



-'-V-- 



Their Hearts' Desire 

smile. " How are you all after the party? 
. . . Oh, is she? I'm sorry to hear 
that. . . . Yes, I want to know if I 
may see you for a few minutes to-morrow 
morning, as early as nine-thirty. . . . 
Not early? " laughing. " Well, I can make 
it six-thirty, or seven, only I don't want to 
get mixed up with Louise's butcher and 
baker. .. . Beg pardon? . . . Thanks, 
you flatter me. Well, we'll make it nine- 
thirty, then. . . . Very well. Good- 
night." 

The 'phone was abandoned with the air 
of having accomplished all manner of 
things. At least, she knew that he was com- 
ing. 

Stopping to take John's letter from the 
table, his glance fell again upon the offend- 
ing cup of tea, Jane's contribution to his 
comfort. Good, pious, temperate Jane! 
Somehow he 



^' 



sorry 



J^ 



ight, 



and it was a very little thing to drink a cup 



of tea! 



W 



.57 



/ 



i 



-^ .-^ ".^-^ -=* -> ••» ~ ^' '^^t<?'>ioi»' 



He 



Their Hearts* Desire 

raised it to his lips. It was cold 



He made a \vr\' face and shrugged his shoul- 
ders, then looked benignly, in glad relief, 
upon the palm in the bay window, and 
crossing over, poured the liquid Oolong and 
Gunpowder about its roots. It was a sturdy 
plant and likely to survive the dissipation, 
he decided. Besides, according to Jane, tea 
was good for anything. 

" You make excellent tea, Jane," he com- 
mented, replacing the cup upon the table 
as she re-entered the room. " And it ij a 
cold night. Be careful about the ventila- 
tion in John's room, won't you? " he added. 

" I always am. You know he hasn't had 
a cold this year," she answered \nth pride. 

" I know," nodding approval. Then, 
" How are you t\vo getting on these days? " 

" Very well, sir, but of course John 
doesn't think of anything but Christmas 
now, and what he wants, and to-night he has 
some queer notion about Mars — says you 
told him. When he was getting ready for 





I- 



# -^- 



as3*> 





c^ T'/je/r Hearts' Desire 

A bed he talked of nothing else. Have you 
(( gotten his Christmas things yet, sir? " 
'' " No, not yet, — not — all of them. But — 

'('. well, I've picked them out," he added 
(f brightly. " By the way, Jane," in a dififer- ^ 
^ ent tone, " What is the condition of the guest <" 
^ room next to John's? You needn't speak ^" 
of it at present," he went on, not waiting for '^' 
her to answer, " but we may have a guest for *' 
Christmas, and I would like to have the ^ 
room cleaned and made as attractive as pos- A 
sible, fresh curtains and so on. Perhaps, on jI 
second thought, I had better look it over J 

J 



with you in the morning." 

" Very well, sir. Will the gentleman be 
here long? " she asked, taking the tray from 
the table. 

"The gentleman?" in a puzzled voice. 
And then recovering himself, " Ah — yes — 
yes. I — didn't understand. Yes, indefi- 
nitely, if he comes." 

Jane wondered as she left the room why 
he flushed and smiled so entirely. She 
59 




, f\ '^^ 




\ T' : 



i^% 




Their Hearts Desire 

couldn't see the slightest cause for either. 
Then she wondered what the gentleman was 
like. 

As for Robert Belden, he stood spell- 
\ ^ \\ C t)0""^ ^y ^i^ o^'^ audacity. "Curtains — 
not only curtains, but /r^j^ curtains!" And 
X '4 ^ he had not even told her that he loved her. 

A tender humorousness crept into his face, 
as he ran the fingers of one hand through 
his hair. Was he more thirty-eight or 
eighteen, he wondered. Truly, the latter, 
since his maturer senses, treed for the time 
by the reckless maneuvers of his boy soul, 
sat complacently idle, smiling down into 
the recognized face of Destiny standing 
guard beneath, 

Adam came up and licked his master's 
hand. Fortunately he did not know how 
much of him was up a tree, or he would 
more than likely have barked, for Adam 
almost always barked at things in trees. 

Dr. Belden rested his hand on the dog's 
head, "Adam, it's too bad you're just a 
60 



■ s A ^-f , .--I 



i 



\ 



\/ 



\ 







I understand, you needn't wag your tail so. 
There, old dog," leaning over to pat him 
affectionately, "you go lie down in front of 
the fire and make up your mind what you 
want for Christmas dinner, and by Jove, I'll 
get it, Adam, even if it's squabs at a dollar 
per." 

And then Adam's master went upstairs, 
took a cold tub, something besides cold tea, 
and dressed, all to the tune of "God moves 
in a mysterious way," in measures ranging 
from soulful long meter to the most frenzied 
rag-time, after which he went to the Club 
and tried to behave like other men. 




■^ 




^i 



^ 



Chapter 

%re£ 



^ ___^^^, r'<5hr-r:* , -^ ._• -^-^ 



Chapter 
%ree 



Ix his perusal of the Journal at ±e break- 
fast table the next morning. Robert Belden 
was relieved to find there had been no lapse 
on his part the evening before sufficiently 

f'^rt ^ marked as to supply material for the re- 
i % porter. In fact, his brief address received 
^ flattering comment. 

" It's wonderful what a nmn can do, when 

he's pushed to it" he remarked, dropping 

two lumps instead of one into his coffee. 

And John said, " Pushed to what, Daddy? '' 

I ' His father said, " Have another egg. son. 

u.' And, by the way, I got your letter off last 

night, and it ought to reach headquarters 

. about half-past nine this moming." 

^ '• Headquarters? " said John. '" Is that 

\.^ where Santa Claus lives?" 

'■ Not exactly, but — it's where — the late, 
special orders like yours are filled." 



^■ 



f 



ir. 




'4i 




Their Hearts' Desire 

" Oh ! " John exclaimed, his mouth full of 
toast and his eyes big with interest. 

He ate his second egg in silence. Then 
resting his elbow on the table and his 
chin in his hand, " Daddy," he began, 
*' do you know anybody that came from 
Mars?" 

" From Mars? H'm'm. No, I don't be- 
lieve I do, John." 

" Well, do you know any one who ever 
went to Mars, Daddy? " with a suggestion 
of anxiety. 

" No. You see, the trains don't run, and 
air-ships aren't much good yet. Guess we'll 
have to wait awhile for a trip of that kind, 
son. Why, do you want to go? " 

The man smiled, but the boy didn't. The 
corners of his mouth drooped a little. 

" No," he said in a wistful tone. " But 
Jane said that it wasn't true, that it was all a 
joke about Mars being a world, that it is 
just a star and that you were fooling me. 
And I said I believed you. You weren' 
66 



h- 



:>.^ 






/\. ^ 



?^. 



\\ 




Their Hearts' Desire 



i-' ^ 




fooling me, were you, Daddy? " he went on 
breathlessly, as though fearing the answer. 
" You know lots more than Jane, of course, 
'bout such things, and I told her I bet Santa 
Claus and God can go there, anyway, if 
other folks can't." 

" Of course. There's not a doubt of it," 
his father agreed. 

" That's what I say," resumed John, his 
voice ascending a scale of cheerfulness. " If 
Santa Claus can drive right through the air, 
and if God can jump around the way He 
does, hearing kids say their prayers, I'll bet 
they can go to Mars just as easy — as 
easy," — casting his eyes about for an object 
for comparison — " as I can shake a salt cel- 
lar," he finished convincingly. 

By this time John's countenance was ra- 
diant. He leaned over and whispered, 
though they were quite alone, " Daddy, will 
you do something for me? " 

" I most certainly will. What is it, 
Buster? " 





^; 




i :k 



B-~0^^f^*&^^sm 





Their Hearts* Desire 

John slid from his chair, napkin in hand, 
and came near to explain. 

" Well, I don't know, of course. Daddy 
— nobody ever really knows about Santa 
Claus — but I think maybe — maybe — he'll 
bring me something — oh, — something he 
can't bring down a chimney." 

"What!" with astonishment. "Can't 
bring down a chimney? " 

John nodded, his eyes full of mystery. 

" What on earth do you think it's going 
to be? " 

" I don't know ' ezactly.' Something aw- 
ful big, or something alive, and I want to 
leave a door or window open so he can get 
in. Please, Daddy." 

His father pretended to consider seri- 
ously. 

" I'm afraid Jane will never allow any 
more animals in the house," he said at length 
in a dubious tone. " But " — with sudden 
courage — " we'll just not tell her, and I'll 
promise to fix it so Santa Claus can come 




^/■i'Vf ^ 



I"# 



\N 



Their Hearts Desire 

right in the front door. There, does that 
satisfy you, young man?" giving him a 
squeeze. 

"Oh, yes," came from John, in a smoth- 
ered but dehghted voice. 

"Well, run off, then, to Jane. Keep 
mum, and let her wipe the egg off your 
right cheek. I must be off." 

Two minutes ahead of scheduled time, 
John's letter reached "headquarters." The 
maid admitted the bearer, and he met Mrs. 
Strong in the hall as she came from the 
rear of the house, enveloped in a shining 
white apron, carpet sweeper and dust cloth 
in hand. 

"What do you mean by invading a house 
at this hour of the day ?" she demanded, be- 
stowing a beaming smile and a hand in 
welcome. "We don't any of us need pills 
or poultices." 

"You must know about the ounce of pre- 
vention and the pound of cure, don't you ?'* 
reminded Dr. Belden. "Well, I thought 
69 



i-M 







Their Hearts' Desire 

I'd drop in as the ounce, and save you a big 
doctor's bill. You have a terribly busy 
air," he remarked, taking off his coat. 
" Thought you were a sick lady yesterday." 
•/ M (I- " No, that's a mistake. I wasn't. Come '^ 
into the library," she commanded, leading 
the way, " and I'll tell you all about it." 

A big log burned briskly in the fireplace. 
He took a stand before it, his hands behind 
him. 

" I was not sick," Mrs. Strong began, 
" just one of my old headaches, and Henry 
and Barbara got their heads together and 
decided to put me to bed. You know Jo 
had a party? Well, Barbara, with my hus- 
band's consent, ran it all. At noon I not 
only had a headache all by myself upstairs, 
but was threatened with convulsions, think- 
ing of the things to be done by three o'clock, 
when lo! the usurper appears with a cup of 
tea, a serene smile, and the information that 
everything is in readiness, that the children 

have been scoured and in due season will 
70 



/ 



/ 




y^ 





-^^p. 



Their Hearts' Desire 

don their festive garb, and that if I don't 
prove more docile and relax I shall be ban- 
ished to a cot in the attic." She finished 
with a dramatic swirl of the dust cloth. 

"Quite right. Good for the usurper!" 
and he laughed at the victim's indignation. 
" But really, Louise, they have not been as 
bad of late, have they? " regarding her 
solicitously. " I hoped those " 

" You mean Henry and Barbara? 
Worse 1" 

" No. The headaches. Be serious a mo- 
ment. You should not have so many." 

" I quite agree with you. Dr. Belden. But 
tell me," with a change of tone, " how is 
5'our small family? " 

" Well, let me see. Jane is well, she al- 
ways is; and likewise James; and John sur- 
vived the party, much to Jane's surprise. 
Katy, at the tender age of fifty-two, is the 
victim of an affaire du cceur, which makes 
her nervous and the coffee very bad. 
Adam, you know, is a Scientist, and never 
71 



90 f 



// 



// 



# 



^. 



xM 



^. 



Their Hearts' Desire 

verbally considers a material condition, 
And I, as you may surmise, am hardly ex- 
pected to live," and he drew himself up to 
his full stature, expanding a generous chest 
and a generous smile at the same time. 

But his glance by chance falling on 
Grandfather Strong's clock, the smile grew 
less expansive, the visible march of time ag- 
gravating his impatience. 

In blissful ignorance Mrs. Strong looked 
up at him. 

" You are positively insulting with your 
robustness," she declared with a frown. " I 
don't understand, any way, why such a big 
share of the ills of the flesh fall to women." 

" Nor I, unless Eve was made out of the 
worst rib Adam had." 

This was an inspiration, born of despair, 
and Robert Belden hoped it would preclude 
further argument, but his hopes were vain. 

" That's logical," he heard his sociable 

companion say; then, spying some shreds of 

tobacco on the floor between them, she be- 
72 




/ 



'^; 



#, 



t--^ 

fc 








// 

TAe/r Hearts' Desire 

gan to sweep in a dilatory fashion as she 
talked. 

" It accounts, too, for any little moral 
weakness Eve may " 

" Louise," he interrupted, " Louise, 
please don't — don't clean in here just now. 
Please fix some other room. I have only 
a little time, and — don't you know? I want 
to see Miss — I want to see Barbara alone. 
Won't you go and send her to me? " 

She looked up at him blankly. The dust 
cloth fell unheeded to the floor, and the 
handle of the noisy sweeper dropped softly 
against the seat of a cushioned chair. Then 
the light of reason slowly dawned. Her 
lips framed a faint but compendious " Oh ! " 
and she fled from the room. 

Just a moment, and he heard footsteps 
coming down the stairs, and the faintly per- 
ceptible rustle of a gown nearing the door. 

Turning from the window through which 
he had been gazing at the white beauty of 
the world outside, Robert Belden waited, 









%■ 




w^yWli^j^^^0iA^^^^^^^^^ 



^\ 



,rf\ 



•^ 



% 



Their Hearts' Desire 

his whole being keyed up to the highest 
pitch. 

Something of all he felt and hoped must 
have emanated from his person, for Bar- 
bara McClellan advanced but a little way 
into the room, after a cordial " Good-morn- 
ing," until, held by the brightness in his 
countenance, she stopped and faltered, 
" Why, what is it? You " 

He had not moved since she entered the 
door till now, as if in response to her appeal, 
he came slowly forward, taking the hand 
she offered, and the other one, too. 

" I came to tell you that I love you, Bar- 
bara." 

The eyes that had so earnestly questioned 
fell before his ardent gaze. 

He bent his head until he felt the softness 
of her hair against his face. 

" And I want you to marry me to-morrow, 
will you, dear? " 

She looked up startled, perplexity and, 
he thought, a shade of reproach in her eyes. 
74 



W^' 



/ 



-^, 



vo-; 




' <* Their Hearts' Desire 

h« <k She half withdrew her hands, but they lin- 

4(V gered, trembling, and finally lay quite pas- 
^ sive in his masterful, tenacious clasp. 
|. ({. " Marry you to-morrow? Why, I can't 
j-l (fj understand," she murmured brokenly, a 
wave of crimson surging over face, and neck, 
and ears. 

" No — no — how could you? " he said, as 
one might speak to a troubled child. " But 
come over here a moment in the sunshine, 
and let me talk to you a little, Barbara. Let 
me tell you all about it." 

He led her to the couch and, placing him- 
self beside her, began to speak in low, con- 
vincing tones. 

" First of all, I said I loved you. That's 
really the beginning and the end. You may 
have guessed a little, but you cannot know 
how much. Only since the evening we spent 
together alone here in front of the fire have 
I known myself, and oh, since then, the 
world has seemed newly made, and every- 
thing worth while. I resolved to woo you 
75 



t. 




/ 



W 



O^ff « * ' -O .'^,«» • ;N0^ «J. 



^./^A" 



%^ 



^l 



Their Hearts' Desire 

very tenderly, very patiently, for weeks, 
months, years if need be; only I hoped and 
sometimes almost dared believe that some 
day soon your heart would respond a little 
to the love in mine." 

He paused a moment and looked away. 

" Then last night " — softly, half rever- 
ently he spoke, " a letter was given me to 
mail to Santa Claus. I read it, and since — 
oh! I have lived in the joy of an overwhelm- 
ing conviction, and I know I am right, 
sweetheart. It is part of our lives for me 
to come to you to-day, and for you to say, 
* I love you, Robert.' " 

She stirred uneasily, and a tremulous sigh 
escaped her, as with a bewildered air she 
pushed back the hair from her face, her 
hands tarrying a moment on either cheek, 
before seeking the comfort of each other in 
her lap. 

He leaned forward and slightly towards 
her. 

" Perhaps you have not known it before," 
76 



\ 



r^^i 




^ 



/ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

he urged persuasively, " but it is true. You 
cannot say you do not, Barbara. Oh, look 
at me and say you do." 

A merciless silence reigned while he 
waited — waited expectantly, but she did not 
look up at him, and she did not speak; only 
the shadow of a smile crossed her face, as 
one hand crept, like a little hypnotized 
white mouse, into his. 

" You blessed girl, you darling," he cried, 
rapturously, raising it to his lips. Then 
with adoring indulgence he smiled upon 
her. For it was so like Barbara, such a 
characteristic surrender; sufficient, though 
not entire, betokening vaguely unreckoned 
stores of precious treasures, still to be de- 
livered in her own good time. 

She stole a glance at him, which he caught 
and tried to hold. 

" Can't you say it, dear? " he questioned. 
" I am waiting." 

" Say what? " The words were barely 
audible. 

77 



(<■:■■■ 




r: 




9 





A 



//< 



Their Hearts' Desire 

" You know, your part," amused at the 
feigned ignorance. "No? Well, is there 
any really good reason why you should not 
look at me? You used to, occasionally." 

" I know " — she began, smiling up at 
him. But she did not finish, though she did 
look at him as she had never looked before, 
and he knew it, and was man enough to 
thrill and tremble under her tenderly 
searching gaze. Please God, the fullness of 
his love might lessen the burden of his faults 
and incompleteness! 

Slowly a confidence never to be expressed 
in words illumined her face, while her fin- 
gers strove for greater freedom in his clasp 
— the beautiful freedom of untried privi- 
leges and proprietary rights, a transcendent 
joy for him to give. 

Presently, taking an envelope from his 
pocket, he put it in her hand. It had a 
crooked address, and broken, untidy seal, 
and Barbara looked at it in curious interest, 
while he arose and stood before her. 
78 



\« 



\ 




A MERCILESS SILENCE REIGXEU WHILE HE WAITED" 



H \\ 



* 



Their Hearts' Desb 

" Will you read it? " he said, " and then," 
in a confident tone, " I am sure you will 
understand all the rest. You cannot help 
it, Barbara." 

He walked slowly to the other side of 
the room and took a position in front of 
the fire, following blindly the instinct 
to efface himself as much as possible, 
that her broad, beautiful, generous na- 
ture might be wholly open to this last 
appeal. 

Not a sound but the crackling of the fire 
upon the hearth broke the stillness of the 
room. 

From outside came the jingle of passing 
sleigh-bells. 

He listened intently. It seemed as though 
he waited a long time. Could she have 
stolen away? He turned noiselessly about. 
No, she was there, but quite oblivious of 
his presence. 

She sat looking straight ahead of her, 

smiling faintly, unshed tears upon her 

79 



:;i v\ 



/ 



/ 



\ 




!i% 




Their Hearts' Desire 

lashes, and the soul he had divined and wor- 
shiped in her eyes. 

" Oh, you darling! " she exclaimed. 

Robert Belden did not move, almost fear- 
ing to awaken her to a realization of this 
new world which she had entered so uncon- 
sciously in response to John's call; for he 
comprehended fully that John was all she 
saw, that she had not looked around and 
did not know that he was there. 

Softly he spoke her name, and she turned 
a rapt face toward him. 

" Barbara," once more he called, while 
struggling manfully to get his equilibrium. 
But the reaction from the preceding hours 
was strong upon him, and this new atmos- 
phere, so rare and intoxicating, robbed him 
of all discretion. 

He saw her rise, saw her coming towards 
him, obedient to his voice, and then, before 
he knew it, he had her in his arms, kissing 
passionately her brow and eyes, and then her 
lips. 

80 



ri 




# 



v{m: 




Their Hearts' Desire 

" Oh-h-h-h! " she gasped, as with rebel- 
lious hands she freed herself. " I cannot, 
to-morrow— so soon. Really, I cannot." 

Robert Belden walked the length of the 
room and back, to gain perfect mastery of 
himself and a fresh hold on the situation, 
and then, with new deference, stood before 
her. 

" Yes— yes, you can," he asserted. " I 
will not again be guilty of appropriat- 
ing John's Christmas Gift. I know— I 
had no right. It shall be to me a very 
sacred trust. I am happy— gloriously 
happy," beaming upon her, " and quite 
content to worship each day at what- 
ever distance you may designate." The 
tone was serious despite the facetious 
words. " Forgive me, and believe me, 
Barbara." 

She made no direct reply, but the storm 
of protest faded slowly from her face, 
leaving it serene and happily contem- 
plative. 

8i 



kv 



% 



M. 



ff 




i 






- \? 



4-#^ 






^l^»J?1f' 



Their Hearts' Desire 

" Well, there's one thing," she began, 
seating herself and regarding him solemnly, 
" I must have time to look into your 
habits." 

" My habits? " with amused surprise. 

" Yes, your habits, and I have reason to 
believe they are very bad." 

" I presume they are bad, some of them — 
most of them, in fact," he answered humbly. 
" But I'm sure you can reform me if you'll 
only try." 

" I know, but it's a good deal to under- 
take," she continued. " When a man at the 
beginning of his career planted ' high-ball 
bushes ' in his mother's back yard, it's a 
question if, at the age of forty, he isn't past 
reforming." 

"So he told you that, did he?" laugh- 
ingly pinching her cheek, " but I'm not' 
forty, my dear," he objected, adopting an- 
other tone. " You can't play ' summer in 
the lap of winter ' with me. I'm willing to 
be your early autumn or Indian summer, but 
82 



S;^: 



/ 



« O •• 9 



r^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

that's the hmit of my indulgence in this par- 
ticular line. And it ought to satisfy any 
reasonable woman." 

" Yes, but where do you suppose he ever 
heard the word?" she persisted. 

" Probably from Jane. But, by the way, 
in regard to habits, I have a word to say 
myself. There is no doubt in his letter 
John alludes to you, but this climbing busi- 
ness I don't quite grasp. Now, was it at the 
party he witnessed this — accomplishment of 
yours? " 

"How absurd!" she said, smilingly 
defiant. 

" Now, of course, my dear girl," he con- 
tinued, " I want to be lenient, and so I shall 
not object to your climbing in the country 
or unfrequented parts of the park, but 
really, I can't have my wife doing acrobatic 
feats in the drawing-room.' 

" Well, I shall never obey — never — about 

anything," she warned him. " Besides,' 

more seriously, " it isn't at all settled that 

83 



Si; 



1^ 



M 



/ 



■■)' 

/ 1 



K^ 




--*■=*= 

Their Hearts' 
you're going to have a- 
finished lamely. 

" Barbara! you're not going to be an In- 
dian giver? " 

" No, but I haven't asked Louise and 
Henry yet, and I'm ashamed to tell them. 
It's — so disgracefully sudden." 

" Never mind, dear, I will, as I go out. 
I am not one bit ashamed. Besides, they 
have every reason to be thankful. It might 
be worse, you know. Everything is thor- 
oughly respectable, and — well, we might 
elope." 

"Really! Indeed!" with spirit and 
heightened color. " You seem very sure of 
yourself, Dr. Belden." 

" No, not at all. Not of myself, ever, 
with you. But I am of John. For you 
know, Barbara," taking her chin in his hand 
and raising her face to a more satisfactory 
angle, " you know you would run away with 
John Belden at a moment's notice. Now, 
wouldn't you? " 

84 





i% 



;t 



Their Hearts* Desire 

" Yes, with John," she admitted. 

" But not John's father? " 

" Not John's father," she repeated, 
changing the inflection. 

" Which means," with an air of dejection, 
" you do not love him — at least, as much as 
John." 

Barbara eyed him with suspicion. 

" I think — you're putting on," she 
said. 

" You don't deny it." 

" Oh, yes — yes, I do. Only — Don't you 
see? It's so different. I have always loved 
babies and children, even when I was noth- 
ing but a child myself. Why, I used to bor- 
row all the neighbors' and pretend that they 
were mine. While with husbands, why, 
you know — you can't " 

" No, not exactly," he agreed, with a 
smile. " But to be serious, I do see, dear, 
and understand perfectly, that, after the ad- 
vantages of dolls and borrowed offspring, 
you are quite ready for John, and that it 
8S 



//& 






/ 






•^■^■^ 



ea « OO 






i 



Their Hearts' Desire 

has not been possible, of course, to make 
similar preparation for me." 

She laughed happily at his manner of 
stating it. 

" But I have neglected some splendid op- 
portunities," she admitted, shaking her head 
regretfully. " Month after month I scorned 
all the women's magazines had to ofifer on 
Husbands; how to pick one, how to train 
and manage one, even how to hold one." 

" H'm'm! It sounds like the study of a 
real beast, doesn't it? " he commented 
grimly. 

" Then," she continued, " there are sug- 
gestions for the intelligent diversion of 
the " 

" Beast? " he questioned. 

" Yes, and recipes for dishes calculated to 
keep the " 

" Beast," he suggested again. 

She nodded her head. " Mild and tract- 
able. So you see," she continued, " I will 
just have to cram between now and " 



/ 




■_>- — ^^^ » -. 



- p 



Cfiapter 
rcur 



-*^. 




Cfiapter 
Tour 

^^§?=(^- 

B.i53.\RA Stood quite still where Rcber: 
left her, as in a dream, which slowlv faded 
with his receding footsteps. 

She heard him as he bounded eagerly up 
the stairs; heard his firm, reliant tread in 
the direction of Henry Strong's study, and 
finally the closing of the study door. 

That ended her somnambulent coaditioo, 
and starting, in sudden realization of mun- 
dane limitations, she wished that she were 
with him; waiting was so hard, and everv 
insignificant sound startled her. 

She wandered aimlessly about the r: r... 
WTiat were they doing, she wondered, and 
what was Robert saying? 'VMiat was he tell- 
ing — how could he teU this wonderful thing 
which she. as yet. hardly dared whisper to 
herself — that he loved her — Barbara — and 
that she loved him — ch, so dearly! She 




i! 



■^- 






\ 



t 



.- -t^ 1*%J-* ■V">* ' 





i(f' 



Their Hearts' Desire 

passed the back of a pink-palmed hand 
across her eyes, to shield them 
blinding glory of the thought. 

But the rest, would it seem lightly 
reckoned to grave Henry Strong that 
already, so quickly, the time was set? 
It was incredible! The wild beating of 
her heart increased every second, while 
she longed, yet dreaded to hear the study 
door open. 

Seating herself, she spread with trem- 
bling hands her handkerchief upon her lap, 
and pulled out the rumpled corners with 
scrupulous care. Its perfect smoothness ac- 
complished, she folded the square of linen 
diagonally across, doubled over opposing 
ends, continued a rolling manipulation with 
her deft fingers, until there emerged, as 
from the hands of a real magician, a pseudo- 
mouse of nursery origin. 

She paused a moment to listen, and then 

abstractedly applied a few finishing touches 

to the head and tail, — presumably such, 
92 






o « 





Their Hearts' Desire 

since they were at opposing ends, though 
identical in contour. 

Then, at last! She sprang to her feet, the 
newly-created mouse clutched savagely in 
one tense hand. An expectant light came 
into her wide-open eyes, for voices sounded 
in the hall above, then lightly falling foot- 
steps, a cry of " Barbara, Barbara, I'm so 
glad," and she was in Louise's arms. 

" And I am so happy," she said, her head 
on the coveted shoulder. 

" So is Robert, dear." 

"And so ashamed." 

" Robert isn't. He's positively brazen 
with joy and triumph. And pray, what are 
you ashamed of, you old sweet thing? " giv- 
ing her a squeeze for emphasis. 

" Of to-morrow! " and Barbara, drawing 
herself up, looked appealingly at her friend. 
" Does it seem frivolous, or thoughtless, 
or unwomanly so soon?" she questioned. 
" I couldn't help it, really," and she wiped 
away a happy tear with the inanimate mouse. 
93 




^11 



•\ 



r^^'A?^'' 



W^r 






Their Hearts' Desire 

*' But it does seem dreadful, Louise. Think 
of being engaged one day and married the 
next! Oh," she cried, a sudden wave of 
realization troubling her, " do you realize 
it's to-morrow? To-morrow/ And here it 
is to-day already! " 

She rose as if about to run away, then 
turning, looked foolishly down into her 
companion's face. " I wonder," she said 
musingly, " if I'm getting ' luny,' as Maria 
says. So much has happened " 

" I'm inclined to believe you are," re- 
plied Louise, her eyes bent upon the floor, 
an inscrutable expression on her face. 

Barbara's eyes sought the same point of 
interest, and fell upon the forlorn, bedrag- 
gled mouse that lay between them. She 
stooped to get it, but Louise was before her, 
and taking it gingerly between forefinger 
and thumb, held it up for inspection. 

" It's a beauty of its kind," she com- 
mented, " but if on the very brink of matri- 
mony it's indicative of your mental state, I 
94 







:.A 



.^tn.. 





Their Hearts' Desire 

really think you are ' luny,' " and she smiled 
commiseratingly. " But Barbara," in a new 
tone, " there is one thing I should like to 
know, if it isn't presuming to ask. Why, 
since you seem so troubled by the alacrity 
with which things are moving along — why 
are you letting them move? " 

"Oh, don't ycu know? Didn't he tell 
you? " 

" No, he didn't. At least, I didn't wait to 
hear. It was all such a relief, after my hour 
of suspense," and Louise Strong heaved an 
exaggerated sigh. 

" Suspense? " said Barbara. 

" Yes, suspense, my dear. Of course, you 
don't know, but this morning Robert Belden 
boldly asked me to vacate my own library, 
and send you to him. He didn't say why," 
shaking her head expressively, " but from 
the look in his eye and the queer little catch 
in his voice — don't you just love his voice, 
Barbara? — I knew something was about to 
happen." 

95 




■A.. 



\ 



=# 



.^{J1^^I2 



a 



Their Hearts' Desire 

Barbara said nothing, only smiled en- 
couragement. 

" Well," Louise went on, " after you went 
downstairs, I couldn't stand to be alone, so 
I just went straight to Henry Strong's study 
and climbed into his lap, right in the middle 
of his sermon on ' The Eternal Fitness of 
Things,' and held my breath, and pinched 
the pious rector of St. Mark's Church, and 
prayed a little for us all, and dear old Bob 
in particular. And I felt all the time as 
though I were going to explode, and "— 
stopping for breath — " Henry was dying of 
curiosity, of course, like all men, and I was 
going to tell him, and then I couldn't till 
I knew; so I just said, ' Henry Strong, don't 
ask questions or talk, or do anything but 
wish that what I'm wishing will come true.' 
And then I took the pencil away, closed his 
books and got just as close to him as I could 
get, and he had to give up ' The Eternal 
Fitness of Things ' and devote himself to the 
a\\ful j/«fitness of me." 
96 




m. 



i\i 



1/7 



% 



-it 



■t- 




t 



\. 



Their Hearts' Desire 

Barbara, laughing, drew closer, 
wanted to know the rest. 

"And oh! " Louise exclaimed, " when I 
heard Robert's step in the hall I almost ran 
to the door, and when— I— saw him— well 
I'm not perfectly sure," in a subdued tone, 
"you'll have to ask him, Barbara, but I 
think I hugged him, and I don't know for 
how long." 

" Oh-h-h," said Barbara, flushing at the 
mere thought. 

" Then I heard him say, ' People, she has 
said yes,' and something about its being to- 
morrow, and then I ran away to you. So 
that is all I know." 

" Then read this, dear," and Barbara gave 
her John's letter. " It's my only vindication 
for the to-morrow part." 

Louise glanced over it. " Vindication! " 
she cried. " You don't need a vindication. 
And bless his lonely little heart! Whoever 
would have guessed it! But out of the 
clouds, dear," she cried, jumping up. 
97 





.rM 



^- 




^' 



d) 





Their Hearts* Desire 

" Give up dreaming and the making of 
mice for a while and think about the real 
necessities of life, wedding gowns and 
things." 

" I know I must. There isn't time to get 
a real wedding dress, but I believe," 
thoughtfully, " I have something that will 
do very well. It's white, of the finest batiste, 
Louise, and trimmed in a lot of real Val. 
It's very pretty, really. I got it just before " 
— she stopped in sudden recollection — " and 
only wore it once," she went on softly, " and 
father admired it so — liked it better than 
anything I had, and somehow, since, I have 
never had the heart to put it on. But 
now " 

" Now it's dififerent," ended Louise cheer- 




■*€. 



1 



;;i 



v-i 



Their Hearts' Desire 

Maria ' in the kitchen, and then I'll come 
upstairs and we'll talk it all over and decide 
on everything, and after that you needn't 
expect to see anything more of me this morn- 
ing. Why, here's Henry," she announced, 
as her husband appeared on the scene. 

Henry Strong's expression alone would 
have been quite enough to assure Barbara 
of his entire approval, and the warm clasp 
of his hand and words of congratulation 
were all that was needed to fill her cup to 
overflowing. 

" I'll have to congratulate you, my girl, 
even if it is bad form," he said, " for I know 
the man." 

" You're awfully good to me, and I don't 
know what to say in defence of forcing a 
wedding on the family," she said, looking 
from one to the other. " But it's partly Rob- 
ert's fault and partly John's — only a third 
mine. And I do hope," she continued, " you 
won't burden yourselves with the arrange- 
ments. Let it all be simple and natural — 

99 ■: ,-■■ 



k 



%::^ 



>:ts 



^•4 



" -^^^'o^ '^^ixT^Aj^kr^'^-* 



\. 





Their Hearts* Desire 

just ourselves and the children. Really, I'd 
much rather have it so. Anyway," turning 
to Louise, " you know how prone you are 
to headaches " She got no further. 

" Aha! I recognize my opportunity, vile 
oppressor!" cried Louise in tragic tones. 
" You remember," facing Barbara in fiend- 
ish glee, "Jo's party? — and me? — in bed? 
Well, I'm master of ceremonies this time, 
and except for preferences meekly ex- 
pressed, I shall brook no interference from 
you, my lovely bride to be! And now, fare- 
well. You people can dwell on the spiritual 
and romantic side of things all day, but I 
must attend to beautifying the surroundings 
of the bride and the satisfying of the inner 
groom, to say nothing of the officiating 
clergy," and she gently tweaked the nose of 
her admiring spouse and swept out of the 
room. 

But the rector soon returned to his un- 
finished discourse, and Barbara, after a 
brief conference with Louise, was left to her 

lOO 



t,r 



K« 





M 



^%E 



Their Hearts' Desire 

own devices, which were of an exceedingly 
shadowy and inconsequent character. 

She never had a very distinct recollection 
of that morning, except the element of joy 
that pervaded everything, even the very air 
she breathed. 

She faithfully essayed occupation but ac- 
complished little, for a deep, melodious 
voice of which she never lost entire con- 
sciousness, interposed persistently, again and 
again, in words that sent her wits a- 
wool-gathering and drove her, in a state 
of blissful consternation, to the reassur- 
ing perusal of John's letter, which some- 
how seemed to hold the balance of the 
world. 

But finally, little by little, out of chaos, 
a memorandum for the prospective after- 
noon's shopping was evolved, in obedience 
to Louise's parting injunction. It was not 
remarkably explicit or lucid, even to Bar- 
bara herself, and she quailed at the thought 
of Louise's bantering scorn. 

lOI 



\ 



I 



If 






^yM 



— ^0*— r^"'' 



y^Y.^mm^^ 



•mv. 



4; 



'4^^ ^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

However, judging from the glowing, con- 
tented faces presented at the Strong dinner 
table that evening, and the tales of endless 
purchases with which the man of the house 
was regaled : tales continually confirmed by 
the deliver}^ of packages large, small, and 
medium, at the front, side, and rear doors, 
certainly the expedition had proven a suc- 
cess, and exhilaration reaching the point 
of irresponsibility possessed the shoppers. 
They fairly gloried in exhausted bank ac- 
counts, insisting that not a sou remained, 
that even the copper funds hoarded by the 
minister's household for the clothing and 
education of African heathen had been con- 
fiscated. 

After dinner Barbara repaired to her 
room to rest; at least, that is what she said 
and meant to do. What she really needed 
was to be alone, to find herself. As the hour 
of Robert's coming drew near, she was con- 
trolled, first, by a wild desire to see him, 
and then by an equally wild desire to run 




/ 



\ 



0y^.^s^mA\0^Wm:^'l^'^^^^m^ 




-4^v^-^^^-^.!^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

away. For with physical exhaustion and the 
night had come some doubts and perturba- 
tion. 

At present the future lay before her like a 
strange land to whose very gates she had 
been swept unwittingly. And now her girl- 
hood pleaded for a moment's respite in 
which to live over a happy past, enjoy life 
as it was for a while, and steal, perchance, a 
tiny glimpse into the future. 

Oh, if it were only next week, instead of 
to-morrow, this future ! The present was so 
perfect, and she could change it all and be a 
New Year's present just as well. She could 
write John herself, explaining how it was, 
that she was late in getting in — from Mars. 
And all the time she knew she wouldn't — 
that she couldn't. That he who had brought 
her to the gate would carry her beyond. 
She could feel the firm clasp of his hand 
and his compelling eyes, and she was — be 
truthful, Barbara! yes, glad to go. 
Nevertheless, she whimsically arraigned 
}2l 





M 



r,v'Sl« «%i//^^ny'^if^''^ 



fi ^TlANiii'^ 





Their Hearts' Desire 

him before her woman's bar of justice, the 
charge, " unlawful coercion." 

He had been merciless, had taken every 
advantage of her weakness, but her mental 
picture of him somehow quashed the ac- 
cusation. " No, he was not splendidly hand- 
some enough to be a real villain," she re- 
flected with smiling tenderness. " Neither 
was his coloring sufficiently intense." 

Putting out the light, Barbara drew aside 
the curtains, leaning her elbows on the sil 
and her face in her hands. 

That nothing stood for long in Robert 
Belden's way was true, not because he domi- 
neered, but that he dominated. Intensely 
human, life in all its phases touched him, 
but his very bearing spoke control and well- 
directed manhood, and one always felt his 
personality was plus their realization of it; 
that there was more strength, more fire, 
more tenderness than they could see. 

his personal- 
strong upon her, there grew in Barbara 




Ji-=^jSu 






Their Hearts' Desire 

a firm reliance in his power to recognize 
and banish all forms of doubt and fear, even 
the husband himself if need be; and after 
watching his approach to the house, she did 
not even wait to be summoned, but de- 
scended the stairs with glad anticipation 
and noiselessly entered the room. 

He was standing with his back to the 
door and did not hear or see her. 

" Oh, I'm so glad you've come," she said, 
laying a hand ever so lightly upon his arm. 
It was promptly covered with one of his. 
He turned and looked at her. 

" Why, you've grown more beautiful 
since morning, Barbara," he said with won- 
derment. 

" No, only happier," discreetly withdraw- 
ing her hand. 

" I like to hold it, — it's — no trouble," he 
assured her with a whimsical smile. 

" No, but — won't you have a chair? " she 
questioned, taking one herself. 

" Instead? Thanks, awfully," amused at 



/ 



/ 



M. 



- %i 



\\ 



\ 



/'^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

the unusual formality. " But, Barbara, 
what's the matter with the room? " looking 
about with curiosity at the pile of curtains 
on the couch, an occasional rolled up rug, 
misplaced furniture, and a general air of 
confusion and preparation. " It looks as if 
it were on the brink of a revolution." 

" I guess it is. Some one's going to be 
married in here to-morrow." 

"Really? How interesting! And what's 
that over there? " 

" Where? " looking around. 

" There," indicating a large expanse, 
quite devoid of furniture. 

" Oh, that? The place of execution, 
probably." 

" H'm'm! It must be a large and portly 
victim, or else they are very prodigal of 
space," he remarked dryly. 

" But there are two," explained Bar- 
bara. 

"Two? What a shame! And both 
young and handsome, I presume. Grue- 
io6 



4 



et" 



M^. 






:^r^ 



% 



v^x^ Ax \^, ^ 



^-^" 



\\ 



4- 



„«- . 



Their Hearts' Desire 

some, isn't it? " he said, assuming his favor- 
ite position before the fire. 
A ^ " Dreadfully gruesome. Would you 
rather go to the drawing-room?" she en- 
quired, knowing well what the answer 
would be. 

"Horrors! No." 

She laughed softly at him, and then turn- 
ing her gaze again on the fateful spot, be- 
came suddenly grave and silent. Robert 
grew restless. An air of remoteness about 
her troubled him. 

Closely he scrutinized her face. Just the 
profile was visible, but it was very sweet and 
womanly, and child-like too, he thought, 
and it came to him the first time that day 
what to-morrow meant to Barbara. It 
meant a great deal to him, a man. Not- 
withstanding his happiness, the day had not 
passed without serious thought. It meant 
a great deal more to her, a woman. 

Impulsively he poked the smouldering 
logs on the andirons, an involuntary expres- 
107 




!# 



n/ 



// 



H^ 






^>,t'»'\*^/j: 



'il^^ -,' 



1^- 



/li 



Their Hearts' Desire 

sion of a thought to cheer. With quick 
flame and lively crackle the fire brightened 
the prospect, making even obscure things 
Q softly roseate and giving Robert courage to 
enquire: 

" You're not frightened, Barbara, or sorry 
it's — to-morrow? " 

" No," turning slowly toward him. 
" No, not when I'm with you," she 
said. 

"And when you are not?" 

"A little." 

" And that's why," exultantly advancing 
upon her, " you were glad when I came to- 
night? " 

" I guess so," looking up at him fool- 
ishly, " for this afternoon you seemed quite 
— formidable, and now you are here, you 
are just plain Robert Belden, M.D., and 
I'm not afraid a bit." 

To prove it she leaned a bit toward him, 

lightly brushing her cheek against his coat 

sleeve. 

io8 



Pl • 



'iAJ^^ 



i-^ :V 



:li 



/ 



Their Hearts* Desire 

"Barbara! you child!" 

He wanted, oh, all sorts of things for an 
instant, and then contented himself, having 
learned that what she freely gave was 
sweeter far than what he took, and unfail 
ingly heralded a greater blessing. 

After a moment's happy silence, he drew 
up a chair. " Tell me," he said, " what you 
have been doing all day." 

" Well," she began, " I met Louise at 
Clancy's about one, where we had lunch, 
and then she piloted me around, and oh, the 

things we bought! " getting ready to 

enumerate them on her fingers. " Trains 
of cars, silk dresses for cooks, firemen's 
suits, marbles, negligees, a coat, toy automo- 
biles, a drum, Christmas tree decora- 
tions, two dolls, gloves, two watches, ten 
books " 

" Oh, stop, have pity," he cried, impris- 
oning her hands. " My head is spinning 
and you put me to shame. I was on the 
rampage three whole hours myself, and 
109 



/ 



*" /- 



; i'/ 







m 











Their Hearts' Desire 

this " — laying a small white box in her lap, 
" is all I managed to bring home." 

Barbara opened it and exclaimed with 
delight as she viewed the contents admir- 
ingly from all angles and in all lights. 
Then, in a practically interested tone, and 
with an inquiring upward glance, " For 
Jane, or the cook? " she said. 

" Neither. The new housekeeper." 

" Oh! " striving to be unconcerned. 

" Do you think she'll like it? " anxiously. 

" She'll love it, I'm sure, only " steal- 
ing another look at him, " aren't you afraid 
you're spoiling her? " 

"Not a bit." 

"With such a beginning! why, she'll be 
expecting diamond tiaras and ruby stom- 
achers at the end of six months." 

"Gracious! You don't mean it!" and 
Robert Belden wrinkled his brow with well 
assumed anxiety. " Well," slipping the 
ring on her finger with sudden resolution, 
" it will have to be thoroughly understood, 



^l. ^f^si 



^f^') 



\\ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

then, that this is simply a retaining fee, to 
preclude all other possible engagements, 
and not a forerunner of emblazoned breast- 
plates and headgear. But I'm so glad it 
fits, dear, and that you like it," he added 
softly, " and I hope it heralds only the best 
for you, my girl." 

" It does, I know. It heralds you." 

"That's very sweet, and I shall try to 
prove it true. But about the arrangements 
for this — ' execution ' I believe you called 
it? You haven't told me a thing, and I'm 
really interested." 

"At six, in here, just the family — and 
your brother, is he coming? " 

" Yes. The only member of the family 
available on such short notice. But I 
talked over the long distance with Sue to- 
day." 

"Oh, what did she say? Was she 
shocked? " 

" Not a bit of it, only, of course, it was 
a trifle startling. But after she got through 



^ ^ ^ J^ 



:::^> 



"j^ 




V\ V, 



3irnT*:^i*!=:*~ 



.l^J 



\ 



Their Hearts* Desire 

gasping and saying ' Robert! Really, you 
don't mean it! ' and so on, she sent all kinds 
of loving messages to you, seeming to forget 
that I existed. Then she wanted to gossip 
as to when and where it happened, the exact 
color of your hair and eyes, how old you 
are — really impudent questions, Barbara. 
I had to call a halt." 

They laughed merrily. " I think you'll 
have a line from her to-morrow," he 
added. 

Then they talked of John, and Jane, and 
of what John's life had been, and what it 
was to be, even to his senior year at 
college. 

And Barbara imparted her plans for their 
first Christmas day and the denouement in 
the morning, and in response to eager in- 
quiries, Robert told her of John's hopes and 
fears, as indicated by conversation with him- 
self and Jane. 

" Strange," he said, " that while the little 
shaver seems to have it so constantly in mind, 



h\ 



/ 



/ 



\ 



"#U^^ 




■fr>\ 



<^.r-- 



Their Hearts' Desire 

and alludes to it frequently, he has never 
consciously betrayed himself. He goes just 
so far, and no farther." 

" Do you really believe he expects me? " 
Barbara asked. 

" Perhaps not you. No, I don't believe 
he does. For I think he feels somehow that 
mothers are matters of direct inheritance, 
and scarcely available in this world. That's 
why he's banking on another planet." 

"Bless him! Isn't he funny — but pa- 
thetic, too," she said. 

" Yes, he has literally ' hitched his wagon 
to a star.' He not only believes, but his 
faith absorbs him — all but his appetite. 
He still eats, I'm glad to say." 

" I can hardly wait for Christmas to 
come," and Barbara glowed with enthusi- 
asm. 

" Neither can I ; only, of course," with a 
resigned air, " I don't expect to figure much. 
But," rising, " you are tired and sleepy, 
yes you are," he insisted when she shook 



■A 



W 



f 



A A 



• W^^s^^^ 



\N 



Their Hearts* Desire 

her head, " and I'm not going to keep you 
up another minute. Just think, Barbara," 
his voice growing low and tender, " I'm 
saying good-bye, and I shall not come again, 
unless I'm needed, till I come to take you 
home. Home, dear, our home, and John's. 
I cannot tell you what it means — 
what it will mean to have you always 
there." 

He smiled in seeming indecision, then 
took a position behind her, resting his arms 
on the back of her chair. 

" Shall I tell you what I did to-night? " 
he asked. " I forgot when I said I brought 
only the ring home, for on the way from 
the jeweler's I saw — some sort of — work- 
box. That's what made me late for dinner. 
It took so long to find just the right one, 
and get it properly equipped. Guess I was 
hard to suit," he admitted, laughing, and 
he stopped to push in place a loosened hair- 
pin and admire the shining braids that 

crowned her head. 

114 






m 



.>T^1 



v« 




1^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

" And what did you do? " Barbara ques- 
tioned. 

" Well, after dinner, in the living room, 
where I always sit, I drew into place oppo- 
3 site, but not very far from mine, a low, 
easy chair — the one you always use when 
'": you come to see me in my dreams, and I 
^ put a little stool before it for your feet. 
On the table you will find your friends 
Tom Moore, ' The Brushwood Boy,' 
and Barrie's ' Little White Bird,' and 
beside them a dish of violets that I 
fixed myself. Then, on the other side 
of the table, near the lamp, is the sewing- 
box, Barbara, and — guess what is in- 
side." 

" Scissors." 

" Little ones, with gold handles." 

" And thread." 

" Yes." 

"And needles." 

" Enough to last a lifetime, I should 
think. But try again." 
115 



/ 



Mr:^:^^ 



^V 



^^, 




vt^i 



Their Hearts' Desire 

"Why, I can't think. Oh, yes, how 
stupid! A thimble, of course." 

" Yes, and other things, including an 
appetizing red silk radish, a new Burbank 
variety, I presume, for polishing needles. 
But none of these are the things I mean, 
dear. Guess again." 

" Why, I can't imagine, really," she said, 
puckering her brow. 

He leaned over her. " My gloves," he 
whispered, " that need mending, and have 
a button ofif. You — don't mind?" a bit 
abashed at his presumption. " There's a 
box of Alegrettis in the table drawer," he 
added lightly, with a boyish idea of redeem- 
ing himself. 

She put one slim hand over her shoulder 
to get him, and he found her eyes full of 
tears when he faced her, and one big, over- 
grown, unmanageable one had fallen out 
upon her cheek. 

" Why, what's the matter, mein liebchen? 

You don't have to " 

ii6 



^1 



/ 



W^'L 






^ ^.n.-^^,^'^^ 




# 




The following evening, at the same time 
that John Belden, with Adam and Jane in 
attendance, was partaking of his evening 
meal, in blissful ignorance of the pregnancy 
of the hour, the idol of his dreams stood 
the center of an admiring group. 

Mrs. Strong, putting a few finishing 
touches here and there, viewed her with 
critical satisfaction, and Elizabeth and Jo, 
who had been admitted to witness the com- 
pletion of the bridal array, with feelings of 
awe and childish delight, while Margaret, 
whose admiration completely absorbed her 
German mentality, sat mechanically bv, 
holding as in a vise the ten-months-old 
Henry Strong, Jr. He divided his atten- 
tion between vicious attacks on a rubber 
rooster and soulful appeals to Barbara to 
take him. 




IS 




fcl-^'V^!*'-*- 



-- a. 



Vs 



Their Hearts' Desire 

Why she didn't he couldn't in the least 
understand, and after each futile appeal, 
dashed the rooster vindictively to the floor 
and scolded lustily until Margaret was suffi- 
ciently aroused to restore it to his capricious 
hands. 

" No, you are not going to your Auntie 
Barbara to-night, young man," his mother 
said, as he made another demand for Bar- 
bara's attention. " Lay him down on the 
couch, nurse, and get his bottle so that he 
may have it promptly at six. Now I must 
go downstairs. I think I heard the front 
door close. Which probably means the 
groom, and he may need me to lean upon, 
who knows? He's such a timid lad." 

" And you'd be such a healthy prop." 

" Don't be too scornful. You may have 
need of me yourself before the evening's 
over," warned Mrs. Strong, starting on a 
final tour of inspection. " Well, you're 
perfect, absolutely, dress and all," she an- 
nounced, rounding up in front of the bride, 




-==-*/>/ No o 



/ 



n^ 



nl<^ 



their Hearts' Desire 

" and you look like an angel — or madonna, 
or something, I don't know what. Now 
kiss me, and obey instructions. This may 
be a small affair, but it has to go off with 
some degree of system and eclat. Now 
don't forget," admonishing with her fore- 
finger, " that as soon as you hear the first 

notes — I mean " correcting herself 

hastily, " I mean as soon as the clock strikes, 
you are to come." 

"Why can't I go down now, with you? 
I'm ready." 

" Why, Barbara, my dear, I wouldn't 
think of allowing it. Who ever heard of 
a decorous bride presenting herself at the 
altar ahead of time? " and Mrs. Strong tried 
to frown. " I'm shocked. You, of all 
people! Besides, I want a moment to look 
over the groom, in the absence of the female 
members of his family, and see that the 
flowers and candles are in working order. 
Come, children." 

" Oh, please let them wait and come with 
123 



1:^ 



\^ 



/ 



/ 



¥^m 






Their Hearts' Desire 

me. Almost all brides have some attend- 
ants," argued this one. 

" Well," pausing to consider, " I don't 
mind, if you'll promise to keep them at 
arm's length. But remember, both of you," 
turning to the young hopefuls, " don't you 
dare to touch your Aunt Barbara, and walk 
downstairs ahead of her, so you will not 
step on her dress," and gathering up the 
trailing folds of her own blue gown, Mrs. 
Strong proceeded downstairs. 

" April fool," she drawled in sing-song 
fashion, encountering the impatient groom's 
expectant eye and advancing form as she 
entered the library. Then she sailed airily 
by to greet his brother, their only guest. 
" I'm so glad you're here," she said. 

" So am I," George Belden responded. 
" But it was such a surprise I hardly got 
my breath in time to come." 

" Or I, in time to have you. I tell you, 
these are strenuous times we are livmg 
in." 

124 



:M: 



V^' 



^. 




Their Hearts' Desire 

" And whoever would have thought it 
of Bob, the deliberate? " suggested Bob's 
brother. 

" Or Barbara, the reserved, for that mat- 
ter," supplemented Mrs. Strong. " But one 
never can tell." 

" No, not when Fate and Santa Claus 
both take a hand," said the gentleman in 
question. " But will you kindly tell me, 
Mrs. Strong, where one Barbara is?" 

" Upstairs, I think," she said, matter-of- 
factly. " And how are you this evening? " 

" Not at all. Grooms never are, you 
know. But when is she coming down?" 
he persisted. 

" The ceremony is at six, I believe," she 
responded, with studied indifference, by a 
look referring the matter to her husband. 
Then she left them to adjust a vase of lilies 








Their Hearts' Desire 

added, encountering the trio of amused 
glances, " for I think on the whole I'm do- 
ing very well." 

" You're all right, Bobby Belden," and 
Mrs. Strong patted his arm sympathetically, 
" but you are funny." 

As she finished speaking, softly, from the 
church, through the medium of the Rector's 
study, there came to them, as from another 
world, the sweetly solemn strains of Wag- 
ner's Bridal Song from Lohengrin. 

Very still they stood and listened, while 
the music grew in strength and volume, 
charged with unspeakable things. 

Slowly, solemnly, one-two-three-four-five- 
six — the clock tolled the hour. Henry 
Strong took his place between the waiting 
lilies and the candles, and the bridegroom 
drew a little nearer to the door. 

Soon, mingled with the organ's song, 
could be distinctly heard the high, sweet 
treble of children's voices in joyous excla- 
mation, growmg more -subdued and hushed 




"*ll 



l-^ If-'- 



^♦A, 1 O O 



"^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

as they approached. Then a sudden burst 
of uncurbed, gurgling mirth from an unex- 
pected but unmistakable source fell upon 
the air, and as it faded away in expressions 
of cooing felicity, her voice in crooning ad- 
monition. 

" Must be Auntie Barbara's good boy," 
it said, and then she smiled upon them from 
the doorway. In her arms, triumphant, a 
tear-stained, red-cheeked, wide-eyed, night- 
gowned cherub, one chubby arm about her 
neck, while from beneath the blanket that 
enfolded him, five pink toes squirmed in 
ecstacy. 

His fond mother bore down upon them 
with consternation, transferring him in- 
stantly to the arms of the attending Marga- 
ret, who administered his evening meal 
without delay. 

" Please let him stay," pleaded Barbara. 
" He cried to come with me, and I couldn't 
leave him crying," and she turned for Rob- 
ert's justification. 



■M 



m-. 



i 



% 



'¥/ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

" But your dress I " said Louise, in tones 
of distress, pulling out a bit of rumpled 
lace. 

But Barbara didn't hear at all, for some 
one else was speaking. 

" I am waiting. Are you ready? " 

The music, and the voice, they seemed 
almost as one, and both enthralled her. In 
his outstretched hand she put her own. It 
trembled a little; still she smiled at him 
bravely as he led her to " the place of 
execution." 

Once during the ceremony, just as Bar- 
bara was taking her vow of fealty, the 
voice of the youngest Strong was heard 
in spirited objection. It concerned the 
proper adjustment of his bottle, but 
fitly interpreted as an expression of senti- 
ment, it did not lessen the impressive 
sweetness of the service, and at its close, 
the bride kissed the guest in arms first 
of all, after which, satiated with con- 
quest and attention, and drowsy with warm 



I 



\V 



\ . 



■4i 



11 



Their Hearts' Desire 

milk, His Royal Highness was borne will- 
ingly to bed. 

The hours following were never to be 
forgotten hours. In the absence of Dame 
Grundy and her set, the rarer spirits of love 
and perfect happiness stalked fearlessly 
abroad in laughter, tears unshed and honest 
congratulations; and more substantially evi- 
denced in Maria's delectable wedding feast, 
supplemented later by a generous service of 
rice, old shoes and good wishes, a portion 
of which rested on the top of the carriage 
as Mr. and Mrs. Belden rode away. 

After the closing of the carriage door, ex- 
cept for inquiries regarding her comfort, 
Robert left Barbara to herself. Passively 
she submitted to his solicitous care, dreamily 
content to watch the procession of street 
lamps, listen to the creaking wheels upon 
the snow, and as the carriages passed, won- 
der who the bride and groom were, and 
whither they were going. 

But as the horses slackened their speed 
129 



%' 



-.m-. 



"^ 



U.: 



M& 






' ^"A^y^' 



\\ 



h 



Their Hearts' Desire 

to enter the drive, she leaned forward to 
peer through the half-frosted window. 

" Where are we? " she questioned with 
diffidence. 

" Just inside the gate, and if John only 
knewl There," directing her gaze, "the 
farther room at the corner is his, and the 
one with the light, immediately next, is 
yours. And here we are. Step with care," 
he cautioned playfully, helping her out. 
" This delivery of valuable Christmas pres- 
ents is beginning to wear on my nerves," and 
he put an arm about her with a fine air of 
vigilance. " That will be all, James, good- 
night," he called over his shoulder, as they 
ascended the steps. 

" Good-night, sor," came in half con- 
gealed Irish accents from the box. 

Half consciously Barbara watched the 
carriage fade into the darkness, while Rob- 
ert slipped the key into the latch. 

" We'll not ring," he said, " because I 
want to open the door for you myself and — 
J.3°. 



^. 



^^ 



.^/i 



y/ 






©,tv/10 O vT" 



M 




Their Hearts' Desire 

lock you safely in," he added, smiling as he 
closed it, and adjusted the bolt and chain. 
" Now! " with a deep sigh of contentment. 

She looked up at him quite at a loss, her 
pulses fluttering. What a tremendous word 
it seemed, and she had none commensurate 
to offer. 

Impulsively she tendered him her muff. 
He took it, wondering a little. 

" There isn't any place to keep it," she 
explained, looking helplessly about, as if 
expecting to find wardrobe facilities just 
inside the door. 

" We'll find a place," he assured her, sup- 
pressing a smile. " But first won't you come 
in to the fire and take off your wraps? " and 
he ventured to push back the hood of her 
coat. 

Barbara followed him dubiously, experi- 
mentally, as it were, in that highly wrought, 
sensitive frame of mind where in the falling 
of a leaf a die is cast. And the man who 
loved her, guessing as much, or nearly, de- 



-5. A ^ 4- 

/ 




r 





y 



^L. 



0iV^^S*^=;^^i^ oTlyW^I 



r^^^a: 






•/^. 






ii¥ 




.^^^^ ^ 



■^rn^;--^'-;^'?:^: 




Their Hearts' Desire 

termined that her mood should guide 
him. 

He took off his coat and laid it across a 
chair and put her muff on top. Then he 
brightened the fire and turned the burner 
in the lamp a little higher, moving easily 
and naturally, scarcely looking at Barbara, 
though conscious of every move she made, 
almost of her breathing, so keen his thought 
was of her. 

At length she spoke. " Isn't it strange? " 

" You mean the room? " 

" No, that it isn't — strange, I mean. I 
thought perhaps it would be. But — I feel 
almost as though I had been here before," 
and she looked up at him for explanation. 

" You have, many times. You may have 
forgotten," he conceded, as she demurred, 
" but I have seen you with my own eyes 
for as much as — a quarter of a minute! It 
was a joy to have you, dear, even for a little 
time, but such a disappointment when you 
went away. Oh! you must let me get that 
132 



,j <, 



^. 






'^i 




w 



t;/ -^ 



Their Hearts* Desire 



coat off, Barbara, 



he exclaimed, starting 



impulsively toward her. 

She gave him a look that made his fingers 
all thumbs, then heartlessly left him to 
struggle with the fastening of her wrap, 
while she revelled in new knowledge of his 
tastes and daily life, for everything in the 
room proclaimed him. Barbara began to 
understand why it was already home and 
not a strange abode, as her eyes wandered 
with tender interest over the carefully 
selected rugs, big, comfortable chairs and 
fascinating rows of books, to the big mahog- 
any table with its splendid reading lamp 
and ready literature, and his beloved pipes. 
She loved each and every one herself. 
Then, casually appreciating the absence of 
pretty bric-a-brac, she enjoyed the restful 
diversion of a few choice pictures and the 
refreshing stimulus of a bronze Napoleon 
and a roaring lion that she longed to pat. 

" No," she breathed, 



back to his face, " it 



mging 



eyes 



is so like you, so com- 






// 



'f\r 



/ 



WwWjMa^ 



\N 



// !;! ^ Their Hearts' Desire 

fortable and homelike, that I want to 
stay." 

" Even with no diamond tiaras and ruby 
stomachers in prospect? " 

" Even so," she said, her gaze wandering 
to the dish of violets on the table. 

He wondered, as, resting his hands for 
an instant upon her shoulders to stay his 
arms from quite encircling her, could she 
mean to be so temptingly sweet? 

He took the coat and carried it to the 
farther side of the room and put it with 
his own; a simple act, affording him some 
degree of satisfaction and a moment's time 
to renew his resolutions. 

Barbara walked over to the fire, observ- 
ing as she did so a Flying Mercury upon 
the mantle shelf. Quite like an old friend, 
he seemed, and she smiled upon him with 
real affection. There had been one in her 
father's room at home. She laid one hand 
caressingly upon its base. 

" Do you know, Robert," she began, and 
134 



/f 



"^ 



m 



f^^f^m^mr^i'^'^^i^- ^^%: 





then something 

her attention upward, and her eyes en- 
countered other eyes, claiming recognition 
gently, but irresistibly. 

As though rebuked, she withdrew her 
hand and clasped it behind her with the 
other one and retreated a step, but her gaze 
never wavered, while intuitive knowledge 
of the pictured face oppressed her." 

" Do I know what? " said Robert Belden, 
turning to retrace his steps. And then he 
grasped the situation. 

Barbara did not answer. Revulsion, for 
the moment, made her dumb. Something 
tightened about her throat — even the right 
to breathe seemed suddenly denied her. 
" Why, oh why? " her heart cried, and 
" Why? " the girlish, wistful face above her 
questioned, too. 

How like John's it was, she mused, and 

a wave of tender compassion surged 

within her, crowding out the thought of 

self, that, struggling, spent itself in the 

135 



/ 



%i/ 



r^^; 



Their Hearts' Desire 

swift movement of passionate appeal 
with which she sought her husband's 
arms. Clinging to him in tense silence 
for a time, at length, with hands slip- 
ping from his shoulders and eyes down- 
cast, she murrnured, " I think — I — am — 
ashamed." 

He took the hands and kissed them ferv- 
ently. "You needn't be, God bless you! 
But look at me, Barbara, look long, until 
you' re — su re — f o r eve r. " 

She answered with a little wilful shake 
of the head, a tremulous smile about her 
lips. " Excuse me, but I shall not look — 
at all," she said. " What's the use? " And 
turning to her own easy chair, she sank into 
it with an exquisite air of abandon. " I 
think I'm ready for my mending now," she 
told him, and the eyes she raised to his were 
cloudless and wonderfully sweet. 

" No, I can't have you sewing to-night," 
he remonstrated, happily, seeing she had 
come into her own again. 



•1 



•i/j A 



!/'■>■ 



N^/Vfr^^Ji^. 




• -^-^^ 




Their Hearts' 

" But the gloves? " 

" Hang the gloves! I need a little atten- 
tion myself," and he established himself on 
the arm of her chair, ready to receive it 
"Goodness, but you're sweet!" he added 
with a sigh, looking down at her But not 
even this remark brought the slightest recog- 
nition of his presence. " Now what are 
you thinking about? " he questioned en- 
viously. "Your friends, the Martians?" 

" Not — exactly," she hesitated, smihng 
up at him. " I was only — wondering " 

" I thought perhaps you were regretting 
— some handsome Lothario with landed in- 
terests in Mars. By the way, I hope you're 
prepared to give unlimited information, 
Mrs. Belden, regarding your former resi- 
dence, for John's questions are " 

" Oh, but he'll recognize me, don't you 
think he will? " she interrupted, " and per- 
haps be disappointed." 

" How do you mean? " 

" Why, that I didn't come from Mars.' 
137 




* 0// 



/ti 




K^ht 



J/ ''^ Their Hearts* Desire 

" He will never think of it. How could 

. he, when he sees you? Besides, I am sure 

.^v^^-IaC' that Mars idea is cherished just to offset the 

contingency that a mother is not available 

here. Don't you see? " 

" Perhaps so," meditatively. " But won't 
it be exciting? " she went on, her enthusiasm 
growing as she dwelt on their plans for the 
morning. " I don't believe I shall sleep a 
wink to-night." 

" Oh, but you must. And I presume 
you'd better go up now. I'll ring for Jane." 
Returning to her side, he held out his hands. 
" Come, Barbara," he said. 

She rose languidly, her eyelids drooping. 
" Oh, I was so cozy," she complained. 

" I know," a brooding tenderness in the 
eyes he bent upon her. " No matter how 
sleepy children are, they never want to go 
to bed." Then, Jane answering his sum- 
mons, was given Barbara's wraps and the 
new mistress entrusted to her care. " I 
know that you will see that she is com- 
138 





A 







a 



Their Hearts' Desire 

fortable," he concluded, as Jane moved 
away. 

" Give any further instructions you may 
wish about to-morrow," he said, turning to 
Barbara. " And now, good-night, dear, 
happy dreams." 

" Good-night," said Barbara, but she 
lingered till Jane turned to ascend the stairs, 
then quickly, as though fearing a host of 
witnesses might come, she raised her eyes 
to her husband's face. " I want to tell 
you," she said softly, little catches in her 
breathing, " how good you are — and how 
much I love you — almost as much — Oh-hl 
more than all the world, my dear!" She 
finished with his arms about her. 

" I'm glad," was all Robert Belden could 
find voice to say. But in his eyes there was 
more than Barbara could fully comprehend 
of love and tenderness. 

Mounting the stairs a half hour later, 
with his wife's carriage shoes tucked snugly 
under one arm, Robert Belden paused on 
139 

4, ^ ^ 4. 4 



lb 



/ 



// 



|Mi 



^i! 



y> 



^' 



^ ^ . . • o • 




i^ Their Hearts' Desire 

, the landing, his attention arrested by a faint 
noise in the lighted hall above, and with- 

' drawing into the deeper shadows of a 
corner, he saw emerge from the guest room 
next to John's, an angel I 

He was sure it was an angel, for it had 
the light of Heaven in its face, despite the 
fact it carried a football and a gun and 
wore a flowing, diaphanous, lace-trimmed 
negligee. 

With throbbing heart, he watched it 
move towards John's half-open door, and 
for a moment a wild desire possessed him 
to confine wdthin his humanizing arms this 
bit of spiritual glory, football, gun and 
all; but distrust of what the penalty might 
be for molesting a celestial being held him 
back, until the vision disappeared, and then 
drove him in mad haste to the safety of 
his room. 




Cf\apfer 
Six 



V. 



The roseate rays of a but lately risen 
sun shone on a semi-conscious world, when 
in a corner room of a big house on G street 
there was a sudden upheaval of bedclothes, 
arms, head and tousled hair, and John 
Belden, in a final struggle with Morpheus, 
landed on his feet beside the bed. Then, 
rubbing his sleepy eyes, he tried to think 
who or what it was at the door of his con- 
sciousness so persistently proclaimed its 
arrival. For the shadows of Morpheus' 
retreating form obscured the face, and his 
sleep-sodden mind could not recall the 
name ; only its warmth, and cheer, and glory 
reached him, as it clamored for admission. 

" Come, John, wake up, wake up," it 
called. 

The importuned one, in blue and white 
pajamas, sat on the edge of the bed, looking 



«^ 




i 


\|'| 


£/*■■' i 


m 



M 



'- ^'1. • '^ 



life- ''.'I 



/ 



\ 



.<SJ^-:- 





Their Hearts* Desire 

stupidly before him, his eyes fixed on a 
well-filled stocking suspended in mid-air. 
And that gradually became the shining 
nucleus round which the warmth and joy 
and cheer took definite form and spelled 
him " Christmas." That was it, it was 
Christmas day! 

A radiant welcome shone in John's face, 
but the recognition produced no impetuous 
hurrah, no customary war dance. A mys- 
tic hush subdued the commoner joys into a 
harmonious background for the awe-in- 
spiring presence of the one, supreme: the 
mother that he longed for, wrote for, 
dreamed of, prayed for — she was first. And 
now his confidence in her nearness, real and 
tangible, intensified a hundredfold the pre- 
vious superlatives of his childish thought, 
till maternal grace suffused the world. 

Rising to his feet, with sanguine air 
John's eager eyes explored the utmost 
corners of the room. Twice they served 
him in a futile search, and then something 



4 




^^»i^S?0l<ftr 





^^y^ -'^^i^'^^^^^^^^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

hurt him dreadfully inside, for he faced an 
aching void. She — was — not — there! 

Like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky it 
came, striking John fair between the eyes. 
Half dazed, he took one despairing look 
under the bed, then crawled back in, and, 
condensing his misery into the smallest pos- 
sible space, lay motionless, the covers drawn 
close about his head. 

Just what transpired beneath them it is 
impossible to say, but Hope, ever alert, 
gathered her forces anew and presently 
lured him forth into the world again, where, 
supported by a feather pillow and her stal- 
wart arms, he found just cause for laughing 
at himself. 

"Of course, how silly he had been!" 
He almost laughed aloud. " To expect to 
find her just any where, sitting up, too, when 
she would be tired and sleepy, just like 
other folks. Of course she would." This 
point was most convincing. " Santa Claus 
had put her some place to rest 



^"^s^^^^^A^ 




j k'i^M^^i-^d^w^^'^^'Wim^ 






Their Hearts' Desire 

one would," he argued impatiently. " He 
would himself, he knew, only, he couldn't 
quite make up his mind just where." 

He thought of the comfortable couch in 
the library, and again of the empty beds 
upstairs. There was one in the room right 
next to his. John's heart gave a bound at 
the thought and all it might entail, and a 
sudden project moved him. 

Full to bursting with hope and the ex- 
citement of immediate action, he gave 
the covers a mighty kick and once more 
scrambled out of bed. But this time he 
knew where he was, and why, and just what 
he meant to do. 

Across the room hung a heavy curtain. 
It concealed a door, unused and always kept 
locked, but only yesterday, during a strenu- 
ous cleaning, it had been opened for a time, 
so the opportunity it afforded for secret in- 
vestigation was fresh in John's mind. It 
led into a closet, which, in turn, opened 
into the adjoining room, thus making it 
146 




><)te 



h 



PI 



i% 



V 



Their Hearts' Desire 

possible for John to investigate that, at 
least, without a chance of meeting any one 
who might ask questions, a thing he shrank 
from even at this decisive hour. 

Hitching up his pajama trousers from 
the droop occasioned by the vigorous dis- 
charge of bedclothes, John walked quickly 
over to the curtain, pulled it aside, and care- 
fully turned the key in the lock. He paused 
to look furtively behind him, and then, 
grasping the knob with both hands, slowly, 
cautiously, with abated breath, opened the 
door and crept into the closet. 

About him all was dim and uncertain. 
He thought he smelled flowers, but he was 
not sure, and all that he could see were 
seeming shadows, that, soft and yielding to 
his touch, filled him with delicious though 
vague intimations of impending joy. 

"Oh, if he should find her— if he 
should!" 

With outstretched hands, John made his 
way to the farther door. He found it 

14/ 



\V 1' 






,tA1- 



\./4 






m,, 





Their Hearts' Desire 

slightly ajar, and promptly applying one 
well-squinted eye to the opening, descried 
a pile of white packages tied with scarlet 
ribbon, and the end of an open trunk. He 
gasped. It had never occurred to him that 
there would be one. 

Trembling with excitement, he gently 
pushed against the door. Slowly it swung 
upon its hinges, gradually revealing a chair 
almost covered with a pile of indiscriminate 
fluffy whiteness, and then another, and on 
that reposed two white slippers and a pair 
of stockings, also white. 

The slippers John indifferently associ- 
ated with shoe-shop windows, but the stock- 
ings warmed his heart. They meant some- 
thing. They really belonged to some one. 
They had been worn, he could plainly see 
by the suggestive fulness and the unmis- 
takable imprint of garter clasps. 

It all went through his head in a twink- 
ling, and his mind, stimulated by the di- 
gested evidence of a trunk and contents of 





'^\ , 



M 




-JI : ■iOU RE MV REALLY MOTHER, AREN 

YOU ? ' " 



S^ =^^yfe-. _ 



\ 



/• 




4i 



^i 




^ ^^^'^^^^^^^'^'^^^^^^-^^^^^--^^^^ 

';l ii Their Hearts' Desire 

\-i ^ two chairs, demanded something more. So 
he proceeded to once again enlarge his 
range of vision. 

A prolonged and ominous squeak ensued. 

John's eyes grew big with alarm. He 
caught his breath and held it. He also 
pressed his bare toes in stringent anxiety 
against the polished floor, while waiting for 
the walls to fall, or something equally in- 
convenient. 

But nothing happened ! The same death- 
like stillness prevailed. The world slept 
on. And at length John risked a comfort- 
able breath, and at intervals another, and 
another, until, a certain degree of poise 
restored, anxiety was lost in contemplation 
of a vase of flowers upon the dressing 
table. 

The vase had been there yesterday, he 
knew, but the flowers, the little purple flow- 
ers — John's face grew luminous. As in a 
dream, he remembered seeing them before, 
was 





W^^^^0iMv%^ 



•t^iMi^ 



^^i^]mm^ 




M 



i^ 



Their Hearts' Desire 

many miles away, and now — to have them 
here? — Tears gathered in his eyes, for the 
light was dazzling. 

He could not understand at all, only — 
some one must have brought them ; some 
one must have put them in the vase; some 
one had undressed and gone to bed, of 
course, since there is no other place to go, 
divested of one's clothes. 

And now Logic took a hand and led him 
without delay through the glittering maze 
of complex thought and feeling that en- 
gulfed him, past the outstanding door, to 
an unobstructed view of the mahogany 
four-poster. 

One single glance sufficed, and John 
clapped both hands over his mouth to sup- 
press a gigantic whoop, and a lot of smaller 
ones persisting in its wake, and which, de- 
nied escape, made him writhe in silent glee. 
For she had brought the flowers herself — 
from Jo's — and gone to sleep again, and 
right in the middle of a smile. ] 
150 



A 



tM-s 



Km^^^^' 




1 p Thei 

t A failed to notic( 



eir Hearts* Desire 

ce she had forgotten to entirely 




f 

(i : close one eye. 

(; In his consciousness surcharged with joy, 
there was no room for thought of how or 
why she came to be there. Neither was 
there solicitude for the mother he coveted. 
Why should there be, since somehow all 
the longing of his heart was satisfied. 

Softly he approached the bed. Oh, he 
wanted to grab her; he fairly ached to; but 
it might not be exactly polite, so he only 
ventured to handle the lacy softness of her 
gown and touch with the tip of one finger 
the tiny band of shining gold upon her 
hand. And just at this most inopportune 
time, Nature, without warning, expostu- 
lated in a vigorous sneeze. It fairly cleaved 
the air. John dropped as though it had 
been a bullet and he the victim; and lying 
just as close to the floor as he could get, he 
heard the soft rustle of the bedclothes 
above him, and he knew the supreme mo- 
ment had come. 




i 



i 



^': 






Their Hearts* Desire 

Over the side of the bed slowly descended 
a heavy braid of bronze-brown hair. Then 
appeared a smiling face, surmounting a 
milk-white throat and breast, and a voice 
said, 

" My dear/ I'm afraid you're catching 
cold. Don't you want to get in bed with 
me?" 

John wriggled to his knees, his lustrous, 
worshipping eyes fixed on the face. 

" Oh-h 1 you're my — really — mother, 
aren't you?" he breathed ecstatically and 
with sublime assurance, for who else would 
tender such an invitation! 

" I — belong to John Belden," she said, 
and held out to him her arms. 




